


Choices

by Malind



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Heavy Angst, Incest, Isolation, M/M, Multi, Murder, Non-Consensual Bondage, Obsession, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Prostitution, Punishment, Sexual Slavery, Suicide Attempt, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-05-14 06:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5732248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malind/pseuds/Malind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the verge of losing everything he owns, a father sells his only son into servitude. The young man enters a world where appearances are paramount, men and women are trained to beguile, and love is an illusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. Any similarities to real life are coincidental or part of your imagination. :)

**Chapter 1: Changing Tides**

 

A solid push from behind increased his speed. His small hands tightened their grips on the two coarse ropes that held the plank of wood suspended in the air. The boy burst out laughter and kicked out his legs. He stretched out his toes as far as he could to reach the branches hanging just out of his foot's reach. Just a little higher. Just a little and he knew he'd touch those leaves that fluttered in the breeze. The upward motion ended. He sat suspended for a split second, his nose length hair floating like a cloud about his head. Then gravity pulled him back down to earth.

"You almost reached it that time," his mother reassured behind him before she pushed him yet again.

The boy extended out his legs. Muscles strained as they stretched out every millimeter they could. Almost. Almost. He bit his bottom lip. When a jarring bounce announced he had reached the ultimate height, he growled though pursed lips. Though his decent, he groaned, "I'm never going to touch those branches like you can, Momma."

The woman gave him one last light push, before she stepped over and rested her back against the large tree. He heard her smile through her voice, "Aaron, you just have to grow a little more. It'll happen, you'll see. We all grow up eventually."

As his arc of motion gradually slowed down, raven-haired boy let his bare feet drag on the ground in the small patch of dirt, sending dirt and small rocks into the air. The grass had worn away over the years. "Do we always have to wait? I think time should just move faster."

"Really?" Her light chuckle drifted over the sound of his dragging feet. "Well, time is paced the way it is for a reason. To give us a chance to enjoy life. If my day moved any faster, I'd never have a break from chores."

Aaron's ride finally came to a standstill. He looked over to his mother and said in all seriousness, "Maybe I could just grow faster then. What if I ate my vegetables every night, like Daddy always wants me to?"

His mother smiled, amusement in her eyes. "Over time, yes, I think that would help you grow faster. Not to mention stronger. I believe that would be most pleasing to our ancestors." She looked up to the late-afternoon sun, losing most of her smile in the few moments as fingers brushed raven hair out of a blackened eye, before she rested her gaze back on him. "Your father should be home soon. Time to start supper. And since you're so committed now, I'll let you prepare the vegetables."

A little pink tongue stuck out of the boy's mouth as he smiled ruefully.

"Oh, my beautiful, well-mannered boy, come on." She ruffled slim fingers though his hair and wrapped that warm hand around one of his own. Aaron jumped off of the swing and they strolled along the fence to the farm house in the distance. There wasn't another house for over a mile.

Her blissful smile played over and over again in his mind for the days and weeks that followed, since he never again saw quite the same smile. One day, a few months after that summer afternoon, Aaron would have given anything - his life, his soul - to see even the slightest bit of expression on his mother's face.

~~~ I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. ~~~

The frigid winter breeze rattled the window as the boy laid motionless for hours, the words of the doctor playing over and over again in his mind. His frail form partially shrouded his mother's body, striving to find warmth. He refused to eat and even to move, screaming at the top of his lungs whenever a hand dared to touch him.

As the setting sun left behind a black sky, Aaron listened to the men's voices with one ear. The other ear listened intently, desperately, for the non-existent heartbeat within the bony chest underneath his head.

"Your wife has no surviving relatives, so no one will contest your ownership of her family's land and her family's accounts, although the doctor bills and some other. . ." the lawyer paused, obviously trying to find a proper, yet unobtrusive word. ". . .'miscellaneous' expenses have nearly depleted your accounts. I'm rather concerned about the stability of your financial status. And also for your son."

The room grew silent. Aaron knew they were looking at him. Shaded eyelids clenched together all the more to stop yet more tears from falling.

The man lowered his raspy voice as he continued but Aaron could still hear the words. "Ten years old is such a young age. Do you have relatives? Someone to care for him?" The man paused again. His father apparently answered with a gesture since the lawyer continued. "Well, if he becomes. . . If his care becomes unmanageable, there are places that will take boys like him. They pay more than worth. Contact me if -"

The lawyer gasped. The distinctive sound, of a body slamming into a wall, made the boy's body jerk. He tightened his grip around his mother's torso and cried silent tears.

His father hissed, venom dripping from the words, "Get out of my house."

Scurrying footsteps exited the room and raced down the hallway.

Aaron could hear his father's respiration. Those heavy, drunken breaths had become all too familiar over the prior weeks, more so than they'd been over the previous years. Heavy booted footfalls marked his father's approach. Aaron's body ached as he tensed every muscle and held his breath.

"Aaron. . ."

Calloused fingers touched the back of his neck. The boy screamed. The escaping air felt like fire in his chest and throat. The hand jerked away.

Lying in his mother's arms which only grew cooler by the minute, Aaron realized that he shouldn't have wanted time to move faster. He should have begged for time to stop.

 

~~~ 7 years later ~~~

 

Traces of morning light streamed in through an open window and forced his eyes open. The crisp air chilled him as he crawled out of bed. He made his way into the bathroom across the hallway, precise steps avoiding the boards he knew would make noise.

The rooms looked exactly how they had seven years earlier, minus the things his father had broken in his drunkenness. The same hand-woven rug gave his feet a warm spot to stand as he changed into loose pants and a wrap-around shirt, after a quick rinse in the tub. The same floral curtains his mother had sewn were tied back with the same blue ribbons and revealed the brightening horizon. He fluttered an empty gaze over the plains as he stroked his mother's brush though thick ebony locks of hair. He then ran a hand through the chin length bangs to gather them up, and tied them at the back of his head.

Soft eyes drifted over his mother's painting and scrolls, which displayed her talented handwriting. Those particular items had been moved on occasion to cover various holes in the walls, comfortingly hiding the reminders from his view as he glided down the stairs and into the kitchen. After a quick trip to the wood pile and ice box, he began to cook up simple, filling foods.

Twenty minutes after the boy had woken up, his father shuffled into the kitchen, cradling his forehead in a hand, and settled down at the small table to watch the younger man though his fingers. Aaron offered a weak smile and brought over a cup of tea and the ceramic jug that held the rest of the liquid.

The man accepted the cup with a nod. Thick hands, that made the cup look like a child's play toy, trembled as he brought the rim to his lips.

Aaron bit his bottom lip at his father's troubles, but turned back to breakfast. He was much more careful than before to not make a sound as he moved pans on and off the heat, and cut up pieces of fresh fruit his father had bought at the market the day before. Their mornings usually began with complete silence. Aaron enjoyed the quiet times as they made their life seem almost normal.

The young man licked peach juices off of his fingers as he moved back to the stove. He filled up a serving dish with eggs, balanced the heavy plate on the palm of one hand, grasped a serving spoon and a plate with toast in the other, and started back to the table against the wall.

Suddenly Aaron jumped when, without warning, a short series of loud bangs echoed through the house. The plate bounced off of his hand and landed on the kitchen floor. The loud clanks of the plate instantly ceased when Aaron dropped his foot over the dish. Terrified, wide eyes flashed over to the older man. His father was gripping at his forehead and then raised an eyebrow at him. Aaron held his breath, waiting for a retaliation, but the older man merely shook his head and downed the rest of his tea.

"I-I'm sorry," he mumbled and bent down to meticulously put the scalding food back onto the plate with the serving spoon and a hand.

His father rested the cup on the table, pushed at the empty plate in front of him, and stood up. "That would be Mr. Laskin. Come join us when you're finished cleaning up."

"Yes, sir." Aaron flinched when a thick hand scratched at the loose hair at the back of his head. He knew he should have been feeling lucky that his father hadn't lashed out, but couldn't escape the feeling that something was different, wrong. It was the same sensation that had eaten at him since the night before. His father almost seemed... nice.

The few minutes it took him, to clean up the mess and take the rest of the food off of the heat, made him miss a good part of the conversation that barely drifted into the kitchen. He couldn't make out the words, but could tell by the smooth, deep voice that their visitor was definitely a man.

Aaron couldn't remember the last time they'd had a visitor to their farmstead since his mother had died. In fact, he rarely saw anyone besides his father anymore. Excitement, as well as unease, kept his movements quick. He was desperate to know what the person wanted and, more importantly, why his father knew someone would be calling but didn't see it fit to give him warning.

Aaron fluttered one last look over the kitchen to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and then crept down the hallway to the living room. His breath was caught in his throat.

Their visitor sat on the high-back, plush chair next to the sealed-up fireplace. His statuesque figure and the graceful movements of his hands as he spoke were accentuated by the finely embellished emerald-colored silk of his suit. Every gesture was controlled, precise. Soft, ageless features, partially hidden beneath raven hair, were hardened only by that same control. Aaron felt the man's dominating power enveloping the room. That power ensnared him and left his heart pounding.

"Mmm, yes, I've seen your son in the market place. Has he. . ."

Aaron had been standing there for less than five seconds when the suited man turned his head to study him as he himself had studied the man, except the man seemed to eye the boy more like someone would a slab of meat. Over the previous few years, he'd lost his childish body. His height now almost matched his father's. But his face had changed little, still holding onto his mother's beauty rather than achieving angles and roughness of his father's face. Aaron couldn't help but squirm under the man's probing eyes.

"Has he attended school?"

His father took note of the exchange and turned a cold eye on his son. "Come on, boy, don't just stand there. This is Mr. Nickolas Laskin."

Tearing his eyes away from the dark-haired man, Aaron dropped his gaze to his feet, edged up until he was less than a meter away from the man, and bowed stiffly. Being so close, a spicy scent tantalized him, incense tinted with vanilla. The man nodded curtly in return. Aaron's eyes widened at the almost non-existent smile on the man's lips. His heart thudding in his chest, he twirled around and sped to take a seat on the footstool next to his father's chair. He vacantly examined the worn, uneven floor boards and tried to figure out what exactly was going on. He'd never seen the man before and found himself terrified by the men's personal conversation that seemingly revolved around him.

His father absentmindedly played with loose seams of his chair he sat in and admitted, "Uh, when my wife was still with us, he went a few days a week when chores weren't piling up. But, no, not for several years now. He's been needed at home."

Brown eyes downcast, pale cheeks grew inflamed at the remark.

"I see. Not to worry. It's actually better that way. We would have had to strip him of many undesirable traits children learn in school." The man paused to roam his eyes over Aaron, before he directed his piercing stare to his father again and asked in an oddly amused tone, "Although I already suspect the answer, my Master does require me to ask again since your answer may have changed since yesterday: is the boy a virgin?"

His blush only deepening in color, Aaron darted a startled look between the two men, but neither man returned the look. His father's gaze had fallen to his lap and that shocked Aaron more than the question. The man usually didn't draw into himself at such an intrusion. Usually he lashed out vocally, and often enough physically.

"I'll take that as a no," the man stated with an aloof smirk as he sat back in the plush chair. "You do realize that will lower the price a bit. Customers will pay a high price for cherries, but with his odd beauty, my Master is permitting me to pay you more than usual. And since you signed the contract yesterday, the money will be deposited in your account once I return to town."

Wide-eyed, breathing harsh, Aaron flickered a gaze to the other man's smirk. He staggered to his feet, and jerked around to stand in front of his father's chair. "Wh-what is this man talking about?"

The man's blonde hair shielded his downcast face. He refused to look at his son. Aaron wanted to shake him, to grab his face and force him to look up, but didn't dare. After all, the man was still his father and the boy knew what he was capable of.

Instead, he pleaded in a whispery, but urgent voice, "Please, I don't understand! Please, look at me!"

His father rejected even the slightest bit of eye contact. "Go on upstairs and get your things together."

Trembling at the words as their meaning sunk in, tears pooling in his eyes at the older man's frigidity, Aaron fell down to his knees and brought the calloused hand to his face. Pain shot up through his legs. He ignored it though and rubbed his soft cheek against the abrasive skin. "Please! What did I do wrong?! Please don't let him take me away from you!"

Tears beaded in his father's eyes as well but he still refused to look at his son.

Liquid streaming down his own blanched cheeks, Aaron knew in every aching cell of his body that he was about to lose any chance he had in remaining in the only home he'd ever known

Sharp fingernails dug into Aaron's shoulder, pulled him up, and swung him around. The hand released him and backhanded him across the face. His head twisted violently to the left. His shoulder and head slammed onto the hardwood floor. His body screamed in agony as new pain, but also old pain from bruises, washed through him. Aaron swallowed the blood pooling in his mouth and stared with terrified eyes at Nickolas.

"You will NEVER show such disrespect in front of your elders. This man is no longer your father. I am your Master now."

His father brushed arrogant locks of hair out of hazel eyes, seemingly in an attempt to hide the fact that he was actually wiping at tears, and repeated throatily, "Go on and get your things."

Wearing a void expression, Nickolas caressed his gloved hand as he stared down at the boy sprawled on the floor. "That won't be necessary. He no longer owns his body and therefore cannot have possessions." When Aaron made no effort to move, the man ordered with a disapproving glare, "Come along. My Master is awaiting our arrival."

His respiration harsh, his mind washed with confusion and betrayal, Aaron's stomach heaved as he forced himself to stand on wobbly legs. He tried to capture his father's eye with his own, but the man still refused to look at him.

'Why? Please tell me why,' echoed in the boy's head, but he didn't dare beg for answers from his father. At least not in front of this callous outsider.

When Aaron's stance was more or less stable, Nickolas nodded again and walked ahead of him.

Heavy breaths pushed out of his mouth as he stared at his father. He wanted to scream at him, to demand that he at least look him. Face painfully blank, his father pushed up from his chair and stormed out of the living room. Aaron stood on wobbly legs, his bones and muscles feeling like heavy stones that only wanted to fall to the ground, and gagged on his own saliva and pooling blood. His mind had completely left him. It wasn't until he heard the front door open that his feet stumbled to the hallway.

Aaron turned his head to the kitchen. The blonde man's head was tilted back as he guzzled down every drop in the metal canteen. Out of nowhere, for the first time, Aaron got the urge to laugh at the pathetic sight. Also for the first time, he hated the man. He wanted to laugh, cry, scream. To slit the man's throat and see if he had blood or alcohol running though his veins. He had given this person -everything-, his every breath, and his father had betrayed him to such a degree that the boy only saw red as the man's chin dropped his chest, hiding the vulnerable neck. His father's body trembled, holding back tears.

A pale hand wiped at the trail of blood seeping out of the corner of Aaron's mouth, as the young man turned his head to the open front door. He watched the suited man's graceful walk take him to the car at the end of the dirt walkway. The man never looked back, seemingly certain that Aaron would follow.

Suddenly void of emotion, the boy turned to the door. His father's sputtering sobs echoed off of the walls, but Aaron didn't look back. The man was no longer his father. Ghost-like footsteps took him out the front door.

"Forgive me, Lilith," the man behind him begged the empty air.

Aaron had never before slammed a door shut so violently in his life.

 

 

**Chapter 2: Learning the Rules**

 

The horizon disappeared behind a line of buildings as the car drove along the cobblestone street. The businesses and homes were tall and overbearing compared to his family's farmstead, but were made even more so because one of them would now be Aaron's home. His breathing came to a standstill when the car parked alongside a curb. Nickolas had told him where their first stop would be in an airy voice that made it seem as if he were merely talking about the weather. Aaron stiffened upright, enough to see out of the tinted window.

The bank loomed a short distance away. Tears again sprouted in the young man's eyes. No matter that he had been sitting in the car for nearly an hour, contemplating his fate. He still couldn't believe that his father would willingly sell him like one of their cattle. The betrayal was simply too great. Nonetheless, in a few minutes, the 'sale' would be final.

"Here we are, sir," the driver stated, his attention still ahead of him.

Aaron looked at the back of his head. That was the first time the driver had said a word. Feeling eyes on him, his chocolate-colored eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. Wanton eyes stared right back at him. The boy gasped and jerked his head to look down at his hands in his lap. The driver surely knew what business the other man had at the bank.

Slipping back on a pair of black leather, form-fitting gloves, the man watched the movement of his own hands as he stated, "As you well know, I have some business to attend to. You will remain at my side at all times. Your head will remain bowed, showing the proper respect your seniors deserve. You will not speak, even if spoken to. Any inquiries and proposals will be addressed by me. In most cases when you feel inclined to react, the best thing to do is nothing, unless I tell you otherwise. I'm a fair man, and I realize that it will take you a while to learn your role. I will instruct you as much as is reasonable. Nonetheless, any blatant disregard for the rules and you will be corrected appropriately. Am I understood?"

Aaron nodded cautiously, surprised to have the rules laid out so plainly. With his father, his role had been a cryptic puzzle to uncover, the answer forever changing. Then again, he knew that he didn't know this man, and felt no trust between them. If nothing else though, he did feel a little more comfortable after the words.

The young man wasn't given time to dwell on the thoughts, when Nickolas suddenly reached into his suit and pulled out a shockingly long knife with two strange glowing stones imbedded into the hilt. Aaron propelled himself backward, slamming his back against the car door. The back of his head collided with the window and he gasped as dizziness turned his stomach over. That didn't stop him from blindly grasping for the doorknob to make an escape. He'd been cut before, and almost hadn't survived it. For all the times he had wanted death, that had been the first time he had feared it.

A long arm reached out and grabbed the hand just as he found the handle. The strength in the deceitfully slim arm made the boy cringe. "Shhh, I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, you're just making yourself worse."

The hand that gripped him loosened as Aaron gradually ended his violent struggles. The soft voice and softer eyes helped to ease him into submission, but Aaron continued to stare wide-eyed at the man, waiting for the inevitable strike of the sharp blade. The man frowned at him. The boy tensed until his body ached. Slitted eyes closed unexpectedly. Drowning in absolute confusion and fear, Aaron could only watch as delicate features grimaced. Then he felt it: a warmth that penetrated his every cell. His eyes fluttered shut as the sensation became undeniably pleasurable. His every muscle loosened as pain vanished from his bruised body. Even the swelling, on his face where Nickolas had hit him, dissipated.

The warmth left him. He couldn't remember the last time it hadn't hurt to breath. His hand was released. Slack-jawed, Aaron opened his eyes to stare at the man before him.

Thin ebony brows raised as the man chuckled out, "I don't believe I've ever seen such a perfect example of surprise." Gloved fingers cupped the boy's warm cheek as equally warm eyes caressed over his features. "I will never hesitate to discipline you, Aaron. Nor will I hesitate to reward you as I see fit. In this life, what you give freely with your body, you'll get back many times over."

After one brush over the boy's bottom lip with a leather-clad thumb, the man slipped out of the car with so little effort that the man seemed more animal than human. He straightened out the silk covering his lean body and uttered over his shoulder, "Come along."

Aaron brushed his lip to try to get rid of the tingling sensation. The driver shifted. The boy jerked his head and saw the bulky man staring right at him. That was all it took for him to shove his own body out of the door, and close it securely behind himself.

The younger man jogged to catch up to Nickolas, until his was directly behind him, and then did as he had been instructed, keeping his head downcast. Nonetheless, he could still feel eyes on him as he followed the taller man into the building. People had always taken an interest in him whenever he had come to town. That was nothing new. The difference was that this time, he wasn't protected by the bulk of his father. If the man had done nothing else right, he had certainly protected his son from people's blatant stares. Until now. Now, every eye burned into his skin, making it crawl. His father would have given them dirty glares, and then vulgar words if needed, but Nickolas paid them absolutely no heed, which ended up being just as bad as encouraging it.

Nickolas walked with purpose, clearly knowing exactly where he was headed. They had crossed the full expanse of the building before Aaron heard a voice talking to the man in front of him.

"Ah, Mr. Laskin, I've been expecting your arrival. Please, have a seat." The cleanly dressed man motioned to the chairs in front of a large hardwood desk.

Nickolas nodded and sat down immediately. Aaron flickered a gaze around nervously before he took the seat next to his 'master's'. The chair nearly swallowed him whole as he sunk back into it. For the first time he'd left the car, he felt somewhat protected. The banker grinned at him, the first purely friendly smile he'd seen all day. Or maybe even months. That didn't matter to him though, as he let a responsive smile curve the edges of his lips.

"Quite a beautiful new acquisition you have there, Mr. Laskin. Stunning, in fact. I do hope you plan on keeping this one well pampered. But then again, Mr. Mihar always does."

Nickolas grinned and settled back into the chair. "Really, my friend, let's not make the boy's head swell. Beauty isn't everything, after all. The mind is much more precious. We'll have to wait and see if the boy is lacking in common sense."

"Ah, but the boy is exceptionally good with numbers. I haven't had the pleasure of seeing him for a while, but his mother used to come in quite often. I've always been one to pride myself on being a human calculator, but this one actually strains my brain a bit.

The tall man chuckled. "You're forgetting one thing. Intelligence and common sense are two completely separate virtues. One -can- exist without the other."

For the first time, the man lost some of his enthusiastic smile. "Yes, Mr. Laskin, you are certainly correct in that instance."

The moment stretched. The banker looked on as Nickolas brushed a hand through shoulder-length bangs. Aaron looked between the two men and knew the conversation no longer revolved around him.

"Yes, well, my Master is expecting us back shortly. He has told me that he's already made the arrangements, although it will be the lower sum."

Nodding, the man straightened in his chair, and shuffled through a few papers. Finally he came to an ink filled from, obviously completed beforehand, and laid it before Nickolas. A short, thick finger circled around above the paper until the man found the line he was looking for. "Just sign here and I'll be certain that the money is transferred at once."

The paper was signed with an extravagant signature that Aaron could hardly decipher. Had he not heard Nickolas' name out loud, he never would have been able to figure it out from the piece of paper. The men stood, bowed to one another, and said their goodbyes. Aaron followed the lead, although he was a few movements behind, before Nickolas led the way back out of the establishment.

The drive to their next stop took entirely too few seconds for Aaron to properly prepare himself. The building loomed over him as he got back out of the car, and stood on the first step. The building was beautiful in its architecture, using the designs of ages past. It rose up three stories, every gold-bordered window peering out like a watching eye.

Aaron swallowed hard. For some reason, he couldn't continue. Be it one last hope for his old life, or for simple escape, his feet refused to move.

Nickolas stopped at the gold columns that supported the roof of the overhang, and turned around to frown at the younger man. The expression only grew more frightening. Aaron knew it was now or never. Once he stepped into the building, his fate would be sealed.

Aaron swallowed again, as the man took a single step forward. Now or never. He walked backwards, stepping back onto the flat ground of the sidewalk. The anger he saw in the Nickolas' face terrified him. It was too late. He'd already done it and now it couldn't be taken back. Biting his lip, he realized that he couldn't have cared less.

Aaron whipped around and leapt forward to run for what little life he could still claim as his own. Gasping, he hadn't taken more than that leap, before he slammed right into the solid chest of the driver. A thick hand grabbed his arm and twisted him right back around. The hard body at his back, and a look that could kill coming off of Nickolas as the man stalked back down the steps, took the teenager's breath away. He trembled as his chin was snatched up in a gloved fist.

"I pray you never do that again, Aaron. Freedom is precious, but without your life, it isn't worth much."

Aaron looked up, and for the first time in his life, he glared pure death at someone. This man obviously didn't realize that he had lost his life seven years earlier. To him, death would have been the greatest freedom. A return to his mother's arms. But he'd never had the nerve to do it, always hoping in vain that he could find even a glimpse of the happiness he'd had with his mother and father before she had died. He knew it had to be. . . somewhere. And looking into dark eyes that only widened slightly at Aaron's fury, he knew that happiness wouldn't be found here.

Dark eyes softened a bit as the man whispered, "My Master has paid a large sum of money for you. If you leave, you will be found. I assure you that you'll regret even contemplating escape." The gloved hand released his chin to caress a blanched cheek. "Do you think you are the first boy to walk up these stairs? The last? You cannot deny fate, no matter how much you wish it was otherwise."

The man took a step forward, sandwiching the smaller person between himself and the driver. Aaron's glare lost a good sum of its momentum. He couldn't help the quickening of his breath as he looked up into slitted eyes.

"Don't test me, Aaron. You won't win."

The man at Aaron's back shifted slightly, rubbing his groin against him, seemingly on purpose. Possibilities the boy hadn't even considered before became too horribly real. Aaron bowed his head as much as he could and breathed out a shaky, "Forgive me. I-I -"

Nickolas instantly backed off at the words and smiled coolly down at him. "Follow me then."

His arm was released and he rushed away from the driver, his escape a little too obvious he realized as he heard the bulky man chuckle behind him. Aaron followed directly behind the other man. Chocolate-colored eyes kept their gaze on the horizon. Whether the thought was irrational or not, the teenager feared he might never see it again.

The lobby of the extravagant building was clearly meant to impress people. Looking about, Aaron had to admit that he was impressed. His farmstead was a dilapidated barn compared to the wealth that was held in the single room. Plush couches lined every wall. Stunning paintings larger than the couches hung above every one. Vases and finely carved wood tables filled in the empty spaces.

Looking about, Aaron frowned. Yes, his old home was utterly out-classed, but it was still his home, and he would have preferred to be there more than here amongst artifacts he was afraid to even breathe upon.

Nickolas took off his shoes. Aaron followed the lead, watching a finely dressed woman in her early thirties walk to them with a broad smile on her face. To top it off, the warm smile was directed right at him. He smiled back weakly, then unnerved by the warmth there, dropped his gaze to his bare feet.

"My, my, Nickolas, he's even more beautiful than I remember. So many years have passed though. Quite a bit taller, I think?" She lifted his chin with careful fingers, though he kept his eyes downcast, inspecting him, then let go of the delicate hold, and turned her smile to Nickolas. "The Master is expecting you. I'll call the fitter and tell him we will be expecting him."

Nickolas bowed gracefully, and murmured through a smile of his own, "Thank you."

The woman bowed herself, turned around, and walked back to the room she had come out of. Her stride was small though with the finely-embroidered slim dress confining her legs.

In silence, the tall man led Aaron up several staircases and walked through hallway after hallway, until they had finally reached a far corner of the building. They stopped in front of a carved mahogany door and Nickolas knocked softly.

"Enter."

Aaron bit his bottom lip and cast one last hopeful look down the hallway. Maybe. Just maybe.

Soft breath hit his ear. "I'll pretend you never thought that. You are already to be punished for the earlier incident. To compound your discipline on your first day would be cruel. So don't give me a reason, Aaron."

The young man tried to turn his head to look at the other man, but couldn't with his body so close. Their closeness unnerved him. He stumbled back a step. Nickolas smirked for a moment, then straighten himself, and opened the door.

Aaron stared at the man's back. He was unsure as to whether he should be burning holes into it with his eyes or begging it for forgiveness. Deciding that glaring felt better, his eyes narrowed as he stepped into the office. Whatever they could do to him, his father had done many times over. He was positive that he could handle anything they could think of. Adding a frown to the glare, he thought that maybe if he was ugly, disobedient, and un-trainable, they would send him home. It was all he could hope for.

The distorted features kept their hold until he looked at the man that had purchased him. The 'man' was barely a man. He couldn't have been more than twenty years old. The unmistakable hardness in his dark eyes was the only thing that aged him as he watched them make their way into his office. The man was spread out, cat-like, on a couch, reading a thick book held in slim hands.

The boy tried to form his scowl again, but his face was unwilling. Nickolas bowed and unthinkingly Aaron once again followed the lead. So much for being disobedient.

Their master nodded his head. "Mr. Laskin, I see the mission was successful. Considering his age, his training will begin at once. Although with the way he was looking at you when you came in the door, I'd say you have your work cut out for you." The man chuckled lightly, closing his book, and sat up, resting his elbows on the book and his chin on his palms. The man blatantly explored Aaron with his eyes, something the boy was quickly growing an extreme dislike for. After all, it wasn't merely a wanton look from a stranger. It was a possessive look from his new master. "I do believe I got the better end of the bargain, don't you agree? Money is nothing compared to such exquisite beauty."

Nickolas' eyes never left the wall front of him. "Yes, sir, I believe so."

"Good, then. Make sure he is orientated with the rules of the house. I will be having guests tonight. I would like you to be there, Mr. Laskin." The man pursed his lips, then assumed his previous position and reopened the book.

The tall man bowed deeply. "Yes, sir." He turned around and walked back to the exit.

Aaron stared down for a moment longer, still not able to believe the age of the man. The moment was not enough to grasp the situation though. He followed after Nickolas. He soon found himself on the other end of the building, one story down.

They entered a large bedroom. It smelled distinctively of the incense that clung to Nickolas' clothing. Aaron couldn't help but take in the extravagance of the four-posted bed covered in silk sheets, the beautiful rugs that lined the wooden floor, and the paintings that differed in style from the ones in rest of the house.

Nickolas' stride never wavered. He led the boy to a door that was carefully concealed by the engraved-wood walls.

The small bedroom was significantly less sophisticated than any room he had yet seen: simple, plain furnishings placed sparingly, a small shuttered window, and a bed.

Nickolas turned to him. "This is your room. The adjacent room is mine. To put it blandly, you will more or less be my servant until our Master is sure you can perform to his liking."

Unthinkingly, Aaron blurted out, "But, I thought. . ."

The boy's words trailed off at Nickolas' knowing smirk. The man walked around him, undressing as he went. "This isn't a house for whores. Anyone can throw their body on someone's bed. We offer our clients much more than a warm body. What I'll be looking for from you is something that separates you from the rest. Your voice, your hands, your mind. Whatever it may be."

Aaron edged back out of the room as the man's voice became distant. He was almost afraid of what he would see. And sure enough, the man was already completely naked and brushing out his shoulder-length ebony hair. The boy stared wide-eyed for only a moment before dropping his gaze to the floor. But that brief time was enough to firmly imprint the naked flesh into his mind.

"Eventually, you may even be able to buy your freedom."

Brown eyes darted back up. He stared at the naked profile, this time not truly seeing it. However confusing this man might have been, he had just given Aaron the one thing he had been striving for.

Hope.

 

 

**Chapter 3: Getting Clean**

 

"Come here." The neutral words echoed in the bedchamber.

Aaron blinked and refocused on the man who had spoken them. For some reason, his feet wouldn't obey. Was it because of the softness of the request? The simple, growing frown on Nickolas' face that had yet to instill fear? It confused him because, had the command come from his father, he would have hurried to his side, knowing the consequences of disobeying him.

It only took a few moments of standing there, but then he realized why he wouldn't move: Instead of a demand, to Aaron, the words seemed more like a test to see what he'd do with the simple command.

And it was simple. All he had to do was cross the distance over the thin-plank rosewood floor.

Nickolas stood next to the edge of his bed, his increasing glare never faltering. Aaron noticed that, in the seconds he had been distracted by the possibilities of his eventual freedom, the man had loosely wrapped a purple silk rope around himself that nonetheless accentuated his lean body.

Probably when it was clear Aaron had no intention of moving, the older man lost most of his glare and sighed. "This doesn't have to be more difficult than it already is, Aaron. I take no delight in disciplining you, but I will do what is necessary. Do you understand?"

Aaron nodded, his gaze lowering to the floor, but he still couldn't make his feet move. It frustrated him probably as much as it did Nickolas. If he couldn't even walk up to a man, how could he ever possibly buy his freedom?

Then again, was obeying, going along with any of this, even the right answer? Well, it might have been the more sensible answer, at least at that moment, especially since Nickolas had overtly stated that no one would be touching him, at least not yet. But did that make the obvious choice the best one?

What about simple escape? Surely that was the better option. There was always the chance for it. Always. At that moment, he set his mind to never stop looking for it, unlike his years with his father. No matter what they did to him, he would always be on the lookout.

As for now, with Nickolas watching him so closely...

The two words came again, harsh and husky, unlike any other time Nickolas had spoken to him. This time they were definitely a demand.

Was he already wearing on the man? The thought made his pulse quicken and his head light. He didn't want to look up and witness the anger that was surely eroding Nickolas' elegant face.

Bare feet slapped the floorboards. He darted his gaze up to see Nickolas stalking towards him and took a couple of steps back when the man came upon him all too quickly. Chocolate-colored eyes flinched at the blow that was sure to come. But the man only gripped his upper arm and dragged towards the bed.

His breaths already panting, the teenager blurted out, "But-but you said..."

The words trailed off when, standing with the bed behind Aaron, without an ounce of passion or warmth, Nickolas untied his shirt with solid jerking motions and shoved it off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. When the older man's hands gripped the teenager's waistband, Aaron grabbed the cloth where he could, so not ready to be naked in front of this man.

Nickolas' narrowed eyes met his pleading eyes. A low growl, the man said, "Let go." When Aaron didn't, he added, "I'm not going to take you, Aaron. That's something I can't do, even if you wanted me to. I'm only going to inspect you."

If he wanted him to? Aaron wanted to laugh at the words, over the tears in his eyes. Never.

Nonetheless, his internal defiance didn't change the current situation. Beyond laughing, he also wanted to trust the man. He wanted to submit, to get it over with, a state of mind that came naturally for him after so many years of near-confinement and sexual and physical abuse.

Just let go, he told himself. Just let go and then it'll be over soon enough.

Drowning in his required submissiveness, his fingers twitched his last bit resistance, and then he let go. His arms dropped to his sides like dead things.

The taller man looked him in the eye, his brows down, but then moved slower than before, lowering the boy's loose pants over his buttocks, letting them drop to the floor before he stood on the cloth and let Aaron slip his feet out. Nickolas knocked it to the side with his bare foot.

Naked, Aaron clenched his eyes shut, forcing the tears out of them and down his cheeks. His face tilted towards the ground and his hands covered his groin. A blush crept onto his skin and revealed his shame as he trembled in the cool bedroom air. He knew what he looked like after so many years of taking his father's anger.

A warm hand wrapped over his slim hip, holding it. Aaron's eyes sprung back open at the simple touch and watched Nickolas' face as he dragged his gaze over the teenager's body. His blush only increased, as did his breaths.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. You -are- beautiful, despite what that man did to you, and we'll make you unblemished once again," Nickolas murmured as he traced over an old scar with his other hand, his eyes following his hand. Aaron trembled under the soft caress as more tears fell. The man clicked his tongue as a tear splashed on his hand. The same hand went to the boy's cheek, wiping at the wetness there. "You must never show your shame, your weakness to any man or woman who lives here. In their jealousy, they will eat you alive for it."

"They're jealous?" Aaron hadn't even seen anyone else in the home who was on his level. How could they be jealous of him?

Nickolas smiled. "They will be. Any favor you win here, will be less they receive. And you will win favor, even if you never match the others in skill." The hand continued its caress, well beyond the point of any need. "It's a game, a contest, if you will, with few winners."

Aaron swallowed, unsure whether he wanted to pull away or merely close his eyes again and enjoy what the warm fingers offered in a morning of mercilessness. "Are you one of the 'winners'?"

The man's smile grew. "I no longer play the game. I only serve my master."

"Mr. Mihar?"

"No," was all he said before he stepped back, his smile already gone. "But never speak -our- master's name. He is only Master to you, or Master Mihar, if you must specify."

When Nickolas turned his head slightly to look past him, Aaron realized then that someone approached them with nearly silent slippered feet. His hands, which had relaxed at Nickolas' touch, instantly went back to his groin as a young woman came into his field of vision.

Barely older than himself, her face crinkled a touch at the corners her almond eyes as she grinned at the motion, her gaze drawn to it. More endearing, the section of nose between her eyes crinkled as well like his mother's had. Her steps were confined in a long, narrow ebony dress, similar to the older woman's from before. Her dress had floral embroidery lining each opening and her slim waist. Her small hands held a pad of paper, a human form pre-drawn on a side of the top page, he noticed, and a sharp pencil.

"Try not to stare, Gwyneth." Nickolas chided, his eyes flickering another glance to her then back to Aaron's face.

Her gaze dropped to the paper as she flipped long dark brown hair behind her back. The pencil drew some hair back around as her hand settled over the pad and stilled, waiting.

Firm, but gentle hands started with his neck and worked their way over his arms and torso, the man naming off imperfections, scars, moles, even the birthmark near his navel. Whenever Nickolas released an arm, Aaron immediately brought the hand back down to cover himself. Soon, the boy felt more like he was in a doctor's office than at the edge of Nickolas' bed. But that feeling didn't help the hot blush raging over his skin.

There wasn't another living soul who'd seen him in such a state outside of his family and doctor. Now he had two people before him who seemed to feel no apparent shame in looking at his nakedness.

Kneeling down, the older man batted his hands away from his groin. "Spread your legs about hip width apart."

At the words and the vision of where Nickolas' face was, he whipped his hands back. "What? Why?"

"So I can properly inspect your genitals," Nickolas said, matter-of-fact. The full blush turned the teenager's face crimson. The kneeling man shook his head. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a virgin."

A giggle escaped the girl, and Nickolas frowned at her. She pressed her lips together.

When Aaron still didn't move his hands, Nickolas pointed towards the large open entrance to the balcony. "Do you see the frame that makes up the doorway?"

Aaron looked to it. The metal frame had a series of hand-sized loops evenly spaced throughout the entire interior length of it, except on the floor, although, even from that distance, Aaron could see interspaced holes in it. Before, he'd assumed it to be mere decoration and hadn't paid it any mind. Now he scrutinized it but still didn't understand the significance.

"My master had it installed for me. While many men hide their treasures from prying eyes, mine likes to show me off. Move your hands to your sides or I'll have you tied spread eagle to that so the entire city can watch."

The teenager's mind could barely grasp the threat. His father never would have suggested such a humiliating thing as a punishment, let alone acted upon it. His father was too possessive, too needy. ...Or at least, he had been. And as a result of his father's possessiveness, Aaron had never before been put on display.

Let alone tied up. His father had never needed to tie him up before. He'd always been a good son.

Why couldn't he be good now?

"Nickolas-"

"Master, for now."

Aaron pressed his lips together for a moment and then forced the word to come to his lips. "Master, please."

"This is non-negotiable." Nickolas sat back on his heels, placing his eyes nearly in line with Aaron's groin. "Hold your hands to your sides."

The boy looked to the girl, as if she would help him. She merely stared down at the pad of paper, her smile no longer enduring to him. What would she say to the others in the home when she left them? He knew for certain then that they -were- going to eat him alive if he couldn't submit to the requirements of the house.

At the realization, he released his groin and fisted his hands at his sides. He looked back down and realized Nickolas was still studying his face. New tears threatened and he wanted to beg the man to just hurry, just get it over with. But he kept his mouth shut and tried to not cry.

For a draining moment, their eyes kept the contact, but then the taller man went back to work, quick and careful as he examined his genitals, and then was soon done with his front half.

"Turn around," Nickolas said, staying on his knees.

The rest of the inspection sped along. Thinking it was over, Aaron started to move when Nickolas walked away to the right, to the nightstand.

"Stay still." The older man pulled out a bottle from the drawer, dropped some clear liquid onto his fingers, and walked back up to him, while ordering, "Bend over and place your elbows on the bed... And re-spread your legs."

Looking over his shoulder, shock once again drained the teenager's rationality. He couldn't move.

The man's heated hand pushed between his shoulder blades. Just a small push, but it was enough to gain compliance.

This time, it wasn't quick as the man circled his opening. This time, it was agonizingly slow, and it seemed intentional. The growing hardness dangling between his legs seemed to agree. A finger slipped inside and he gritted his teeth but felt no pain. It pressed and stretched him a bit before two more were added. He couldn't help his panting breaths.

Nickolas touched him, took his time with him in a way his father never had. Why was he doing this? But he quickly lost the ability to care as to the reasons why.

Then it ended abruptly, with the older man saying, "No need."

No need for what? "What do..." Aaron tried to say, but the taller man was already walking away to a doorway.

"Come with me. And leave your clothes for her."

Aaron pushed at the bed, standing back up, and covered the proof of his arousal from the girl, his blush already raging again. She glanced at him while she picked up the clothing, but her smile was gone. The absent smile pushed him to follow after Nickolas, wanting to escape her. When he glanced back, she was already gone.

The boy entered a large bathroom, a room larger than his old bedroom. It was finely furnished with silver metal and white marble that glowed in the soft light. Next to a tall, un-curtained window, the large round tub had him wondering how the floor could have possibly held its weight. The toilet and sink curved in odd places and looked more like pieces of artwork than functional things. Mirrors larger than himself lined the walls and ceiling around the tub.

Nickolas stood in front of a shower that could have held at least ten people and opened the clear door when he approached. "Clean yourself. All of you. I assume you know how. Use the soap. You will bathe every day and clean yourself thoroughly. Under your fingernails, your groin, everywhere."

More than ready to clean himself, his groin already soft, Aaron tried to walk past, but the taller man caught him by his shoulder with a damp hand and Aaron realized he'd already washed it after putting it inside of him. The fingers of his other hand drew through Aaron's hair, pulling the tie with it, catching it in a couple of fingers, and releasing his bangs to drift over his cheeks. Then the free fingers pushed through the locks again, his dark eyes watching the movement.

"Do you cut your own hair?"

Being petted, looking at the other man with a growing wonder, Aaron could barely hear his own voice, as he said, "Yes."

Nickolas let go just the barest hint of a smile, and Aaron's body reheated. "Wash it too. There's shampoo in one of the bottles. I assume you know how to read?" Aaron nodded. "Okay, there's a towel on the shelf." He gestured to it. "You can use the robe next to it, when you're done. Take your time."

Finally, the man let go of his shoulder and walked back out to the bedroom. When he left, Aaron breathed out the heavy, shaky breaths he'd been holding in. It was nearly a minute before he could walk into the shower stall, figure out how it worked, and begin lathering up his body with a vanilla scented soap. Now he knew where that scent came from on Nickolas' skin.

The teenager tried to think of escape again, tried to be rational, but couldn't stop his thoughts from repeatedly going to back to the raven-haired man, who'd hit him, taken him away from the only home he knew, healed him, physically at least, officially purchased him, and molested him in front of another person, all before noon.

He couldn't even imagine what another day would bring, nor did he really want to.

His mind and body went numb as he washed his hair, barely noting the absence of bruises that usually made it a painful task. When his fingers had wrinkled, stepping out of the shower felt harder than anything else he'd done that morning. He didn't want to go back out and face Nickolas or any of them.

Drying himself off, he looked towards the window and wondered if he'd survived the jump. Then again, did it really matter if he did or didn't? Tears fell as his face crinkled up.

Long, wet, raven locks shook with his head. He had to be stronger than this. He had to survive this. He'd survived this long, hadn't he? His mother had struggled and survived every day of the life he'd known with her. She'd only let death take her by force. She'd never been this weak. Of course, she'd never run away either from the man who had abused her. But she'd want him to, he was sure.

"I have to get out of here," he whispered, wiping the tears off of his face, suddenly determined to never cry again. But first, he needed clothes.

Aaron wrapped the robe around himself and was about to walk back out into the main room when Nickolas walked back in. His eyes were instantly drawn to the glint of metal.

The older man continued to walk to a stool near the tub and said, "Sit down."

His feet dragged, but eventually he made it to the stool, eyeing the scissors and comb.

Before he could sit down, the man added, "Give me your robe first."

His eyes on Nickolas' face, he slid it off, noting that the man watched him do it. How old was Nickolas, he suddenly wondered. His smooth face seemed ageless, but if he were to guess, he thought the man to be in his 30's. How many boys had come into this man's room, ones he'd trained and then sent back out into the wild to be devoured?

Nickolas took the robe from him, laying it down on the side of the tub, and gestured to the chair. Aaron sat down. Sure hands combed out his hair, sectioned it off, and began trimming it. The boy watched little clumps of it fall to the floor, barely an inch long, but jagged. He wasn't surprised the man wanted it cut properly. Cutting his own hair had never been one of his favorite chores. It'd always been his mother's delight to do it, and he'd wanted to keep it that way but obviously couldn't.

"Have you cut other men's hair?" he found himself asking.

"Yes." He saw Nickolas smile in the mirror. "My master takes great pleasure in me cutting his."

"And other boys?"

"A few."

The idea put a lump in his throat. A few? How many was a few? He remembered then how little he knew of Nickolas. How little he knew of his new life as a whole.

Then again, what did it matter? None of this concerned him. He just had to get out and away.

Nonetheless, he couldn't help his sigh at the man's light pulls on his hair. His eyes closed, and he let himself live in the moment that reminded him of the happiness he'd known seven years before. Soon. Soon he would flee and leave an enraged Nickolas behind him. For now, the man's knowing touch felt... So good.

 

 

**Chapter 4: Owning Another**

 

Effectively forbidding any chance of escape, Aaron spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in Nickolas' sight, both men in nothing but robes. The day became a blur of body measurements that proved him to be too thin and underfed, colorful fabric swatches that Aaron had no opinion on, and food that tasted better than anything he'd ever eaten before. Although he didn't want to admit it, the food even tasted better than his mother's cooking. But then again cooking had never been her strong suit.

During the conversations with the tailor and other household members, every time Aaron's mind went blank, Nickolas had an opinion, a question, or an answer. The conversations only served to shove in his face how little he knew this small world he'd entered.

And in watching Nickolas, Aaron realized that his 'master' seemed to notice everything and everyone, despite the older man's general indifference. Aaron no longer fooled himself into thinking he was getting away with anything. He knew he had to get out of the man's field of vision before he could even try escaping.

Still, had Aaron's upbringing really been so sad that he couldn't come up with seemingly simple facts? He'd read any book he could get his hands on to try to keep up with the schooling he'd no longer been allowed. Escorted by his parents, he'd ventured out into the city on occasion and conversed with some of its residents. He'd even gotten to see a few movies at a local theater years before.

In the end, had he been willing to admit it to himself: Nothing in his life had prepared him for all of the intricacies he was apparently supposed to know. And learn, if he didn't know.

Really though, how was he supposed to know what print went with what color? What fit best displayed his body? What the ingredients were that made up the delicious pastries Nickolas didn't seem to mind him sneaking away under the table to pull pieces off of to nibble on? That was, until the filling gushed over his fingers and he was forced to lick them.

With the afternoon already half over, Aaron reminisced about the moment the first morsel of mouthwatering food had touched his tongue. He'd realized then how famished he'd been, that he hadn't eaten anything since the evening before, which had been a small meal in itself. In turn, the food had put him in a much better mood and made him more clear-headed.

By then, after so many gropings and threats on his body, he knew the only thing he could hold secret to himself was his mind, and even that he feared for as he blatantly licked the filling out of the last pastry. Nickolas hadn't eaten a single one.

The older man picked up the phone on the table and hit a couple of buttons. "Could you bring some more bougatsa?" He placed the phone back down, not paying any mind to Aaron's sudden blush, and stood up. "It's time to prepare for the evening. You'll be coming with me tonight, but only to observe and assist me, should I require it. Come. You can eat them when we return."

The offering sounded like a bribe, but by the third sentence, Aaron had felt his lunch threatening to come up. He remembered Mr. Mihar's request for Nickolas to join their group for the evening. Aaron had expected to stay behind in the room. It'd been his one hope for escape that day. In the third sentence, his hopes had been dashed away.

Any good humor gone, Aaron stood up, suddenly wishing Nickolas would walk ahead of him into the bathroom so that he could run out the bedroom door. He vaguely remembered how they'd gotten to the room. With a bit of searching, surely he could find a door to freedom on the first floor.

After he'd thought it though, he realized Nickolas hadn't moved a step and was watching him closely.

The man's voice quiet, he said, "This will get easier with time. You may even learn to enjoy it. Don't destroy the chance you have."

Was he so obvious? And how could he ever enjoy any of this? And easier? The man had to be insane.

"Why... How can you stay here? Why are you still here?"

When Nickolas' face hardened, the questions continued on in his head: Why in the world hadn't this man bought his freedom yet? How long would it take Aaron to buy his own? Would he be an old man, worthless to them, so old that he'd beg to stay on the staff because no one else would take him, knowing who and what he had been?

"You ask too many questions. You must learn to stay silent and observe. Much of what you want to know you can learn this way. I'm sure you spent your time in your old life doing just that. It should be familiar to you."

Aaron couldn't help his half-hysterical laugh. "You want me to just be quiet and accept all of this?"

"Yes. That is your only choice. No one will touch you tonight, I assure you. You will be more like a guest. You have nothing to fear."

Fear pumping his heart, the boy almost wished Nickolas would hit him again for his insolence. It was a crazy thought, but it would have been a wonderful distraction, so much more understandable and familiar than what the man was asking of him.

"I will be with you the whole evening."

Was that really supposed to make a difference to Aaron? But then, he realized, it did, even if it was a small difference.

The taller man walked around the oblong table and looked down on Aaron. His eyes were soft, pulling the boy in. Aaron had the feeling he was being manipulated. It was the same kind of look his father gave him after he'd beaten him and the rage had settled. And like Aaron had done so many times before, he gave into the look and wondered when he'd ever learn his lesson that people were never to be trusted.

Nickolas curled his fingers around the teenager's arm and murmured, "Come."

Aaron let himself be led back into the bathroom, let Nickolas disrobe him, and walked into the shower with him. They worked side by side to clean off in the warm waterfall of water that came from the long rectangular spout.

After drying and wrapping themselves in clean robes, Nickolas uncovered a small basket of supplies, sat Aaron on the stool once again, tied his hair back, and set to work on his face. Aaron closed his eyes as the man applied nearly translucent powder to his face and black liner to his eyes. He opened them when he felt pressure at his lips. The paintbrush pulled back was stained pink.

When Nickolas stepped away, Aaron saw himself in the mirror. From that distance...

"I look like a girl," he mumbled without thinking.

Nickolas watched his face in the mirror alongside him. "You look like one with or without makeup."

Aaron let out a dry laugh. "If your master wanted a girl, why didn't he just buy one then?"

"-Our- master wanted you."

The words renewed his prior queasiness. At first the teenager didn't believe it, but then he remembered the groping, possessive look in Mr. Mihar's eyes, and couldn't help his internal shudder. "What do you mean?"

"He's been looking to purchase you for a long time." Nickolas walked behind him, untied his hair, and began to comb a sweet smelling liquid into his hair that made it shine in the early evening light. "I don't believe he realized it would take so many years for your father to sell you. And he was almost too late."

"Too late?"

"You're almost eighteen, almost a legal adult. In a few more months, your father wouldn't have had the right to sign the contract. At that point, it would have been your choice to come here."

The idea burned his heart out of his chest. If he'd had even the slightest clue as to what his father had been planning, he would have run away. The knowledge renewed his anger towards the drunken man. But even though it'd happened only hours before at nearly the crack of dawn, it now seemed like days, even weeks before.

Unable to do anything about it, at least for the moment, he moved onto the other matter: "But why would... -our- master want -me-?"

"I could guess, but I don't pretend to know the reasons why he does what he does."

The words held no warmth for their master, and only left Aaron more uneasy. The man began to style his hair, bringing the chin length bangs to his cheeks. The rest of his hair fell just past his shoulders. Nickolas gathered the hair up and pulled it into a neat fold at the back of his head, tying it off with a gold ribbon.

Nickolas gathered up his supplies and walked to the mirror. "Come and watch. You must learn how to do it on your own and for others, if required." He set to work, in the end, drawing a deep red color down the middle instead of the full length. "You see, it's similar to yours. But different enough to show our stations. It also differentiates us from the other people."

The words made Aaron want to scrub the mask off of his face.

Nickolas styled his hair similarly and then settled to inspect himself to ensure perfection. In the end, while not as effeminate as Aaron, the man still looked more female than male, if one didn't account for his body. He led the way back into the bedchamber and, out of a closet as concealed as Aaron's small bedroom, pulled black pants and a long, deep-blue robe out, both made of fine, soft silk. On Nickolas, the robe would have come about to his knees, but on Aaron, as he slipped the clothing on, it came down to his middle calves. It was decorated down the chest with gold embroidery and beads. It was the finest cloth he'd ever worn. And he knew, within days, he'd have a similar wardrobe at his disposal, all of which only added to the debt he had to pay off.

The older man smiled at Aaron's easy compliance and the boy regretted it, but it was already too late to protest without looking like a child. "It will do until the tailor finishes your clothing."

As Nickolas tied an elaborate knot in around Aaron's waist, he added, "Do not respond to anyone with any more than a gracious smile. Any inquiries directed to you will be answered by me. But these people will know of your status, so the chance of them speaking to you is small. You will stay kneeling near the wall. I'll point to where when we enter. Watch what you can, but don't make your interest obvious. If I have need of you, I'll gesture to you with one downcast sweep of my hand, so be on the lookout for it."

Nickolas stepped back and dressed himself, except his clothing was the same emerald green color his suit had been and was trimmed and beaded in gold. Aaron watched him, mesmerized by his sure movements, as much as by the sleek muscles that made them possible. When he realized just how much the man's body interested him though, he dropped his gaze to the floor and counted the floorboards instead.

"We will only be with them for a couple of hours or so. Eventually their interests will move on to other things."

With that, the taller man led him from the bedchamber, into the hallways, down the main stairs, walking past the main entrance, and to a closed door on the first floor. Voices drifted from the door, quiet conversations.

His master looked him over once again, pulling a few bangs back into position, and said, his voice hushed, "Remember everything I said. They only want to see your face, your smile. Nothing else will be expected of you."

Aaron nodded slightly, his stomach fluttering, his cheeks tinging pink. The hand stayed there, and then ran slowly over the length of his ear. The touch did nothing to help the boy steady his nerves, but Nickolas didn't seemed to care. His mind seemed to be elsewhere. When his eyes refocused moments later, Aaron's heart thudded and he couldn't help the response of his body. No one had ever looked at him with such intensity. Then the moment passed as quickly as it'd started and Nickolas opened the door to the room.

Inside, nearly twenty well-dressed men and women sat on plush chairs and couches, conversing amongst themselves. Three stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows that gave a view of the outdoor garden in the middle of the building, hidden from outsiders' views. Aaron couldn't see the whole expanse of the grounds, but could tell it was large.

Pairs of eyes greeted them, along with a few smiles. Nickolas bowed graciously. Aaron followed his lead while trying to control his trembling as numerous eyes assessed him, including those with makeup similar to Nickolas' and his own. He felt so out of his league that he didn't have the slightest clue how he'd ever be able to amuse these people one day.

Nickolas swept his arm. Aaron followed it and saw several pillows lined up along the right wall. Most were empty, but a girl about the age of fourteen sat on one, although considering himself, he supposed he couldn't assume it was a girl. On another one sat a definite boy, his shoulders broad, his hips narrow, but he still looked younger than himself.

Aaron walked up to them and kneeled down on a pillow, leaving one in between himself and the 'girl' as they'd done with each other. Neither looked at him, so he merely looked to the ground, trying to make himself small and invisible to the crowd.

Then, music flowed through the room. It was beautiful music but, at the same time, so sad. The room silenced, except for the occasional whisper, and he couldn't help but look up and search for where the sound came from. In the middle of the room sat Nickolas whose strong fingers plucked at the harp stationed there. The man's eyes were almost closed as he let the music come out of him through his fingertips.

The next song was softer, more like a flowing river than the promise of death. And for the song that followed, one of his kind sang to the tune. Her high voice reached a pitch slightly higher than the harp, but together, they created a dance of melody. Her long hair flowed down her back, unbound, and he realized the 'girl' next to him probably was a boy. He couldn't understand the words and had to assume they'd come from a different land. Was she from that place, he wondered. If she was, why would she have been here?

Aaron felt a stare and locked eyes with Master Mihar. The man was smiling at him. The boy's eyes widened and he dropped his gaze to the floor, his heart hammering. He didn't dare look back up until Nickolas had played his final tune. When he did look, he saw Nickolas bent over and Master Mihar speaking with him with a hushed voice.

Nickolas nodded, caught Aaron's gaze, and motioned to him. After an hour of sitting in the same position, standing up was less than graceful, but he managed it with no turned eyes, well, except for the eyes of his masters.

By the time he'd waded around chairs and people, Master Mihar had already stood up and was smiling at him. Aaron looked between the two men, confused, but then smiled back hesitantly.

"Come walk with me, Aaron. I'd like to show you my garden. It's only fitting I give our new guest a bit of a tour, after all."

Guest? Aaron didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or rage at the word. Nickolas' cold stare killed the reaction however. Master Mihar walked ahead of him. Aaron followed a moment later, keeping his eyes locked with Nickolas, feeling like the man wanted to do something, say something, but was unable to.

When their gaze broke, he followed the master to a window that apparently functioned as a door, and walked out into the cool evening air. Hints of light hit the garden from the setting sun. More light flooded into it from the home itself. Flowers, both on the ground and in the delicate twists of trees, perfumed the air. Stone pathways weaved a trail between the flowerbeds and trees.

As they walked, Aaron realized that the master was about his height. Maybe even a bit shorter. His steps were as cat-like as the way he'd laid on a couch. The man prowled. Nonetheless, he took the time to take in the beauty of nature he'd trapped within his home. His loose, simple black tunic and pants were no hindrance to his movements.

Finally, they came upon a bench. The man sat down on it and gestured for Aaron to sit down next to him. The boy sat down and looked to his own hands on his lap. A hand touched his bangs, pulling them back to uncover his face, and jolted him. He met the master's gaze, his eyes wide, his mind wondering why in the world Master Mihar had him outside alone like this. Then the obvious reason hit him and he blushed, his breaths growing heavy, and looked down at his hands, trying to not flee back into the room they'd come from.

"You don't remember me at all, do you?"

Aaron met his eyes again and realized, even in the darkening light, they were a dark blue, dark as the evening's sky. He studied the man's face, trying to figure out why the man had said the words. No, he didn't recognize him. At all.

"I tried to talk to you a few times at school, but you always had some excuse, some reason to run away. I mean, I understood why eventually, after you left school, but..." The master smiled, his hand again at Aaron's bangs, fingers pulling them behind an ear. The hand continued down, tracing the side of his neck with the backs of his fingernails.

"Please," Aaron breathed, tears coming to his eyes.

Nickolas had lied to him. No one was supposed to touch him. He'd never even hinted the possibility that the master would take advantage of him. Nor was Nickolas there to protect him, like he'd promised he'd be. The man's word meant nothing when it came down to it.

Master Mihar leaned forward and traced the same line with his lips, breathing in deeply. "I've dreamt of your scent, your skin under my touch."

A thumb pushed at the collar of his robe. Aaron's fingernails dug into his palms. Lips kissed the revealed spot. The master hummed a moan, his desire clear in it.

"And now I own you."

 

 

**Chapter 5: Making Love**

 

Aaron couldn't stop himself from recoiling at the words, his attempt to slip away and run, but stopped when the master grabbed ahold of his upper arm tight enough to make him to cringe. When he resorted to merely sitting stiffly, physically fighting back not even a thought in his head after learning from his father that doing so brought unequaled pain, the grip loosened.

Strong fingers grabbed his chin and forced his head to turn. A moment later, Aaron forced himself to look into the man's eyes as the master seemingly wanted him to do.

Master Mihar was again smiling. "I'm not going to take you out here on the ground, Aaron. I'm not an animal. When I take you, it'll be on my bed and you'll be begging for me inside of you."

Aaron wanted to laugh at the words, but couldn't find the will. Why did the people here seem to think he'd ever find pleasure in this life? In sex? His life and his body were horrid things that brought endless misery to him. A few sweet words, lies, touches, and treats weren't going to change that.

The hand began to caress his cheek and blue eyes drifted to watch the movement. "I've waited years to have you." His smile grew. "I can wait a little longer."

While not completely reassuring, the words nonetheless drained out all of the fight and flooded in relief. It must have been obvious in his body and face, since the master's smile suddenly cracked to show teeth, along with a huff.

"I don't know whether to be insulted or to hope you're merely grateful that I want our first time to be... somewhat civilized." When Aaron only stiffened again, Master Mihar leaned forward a bit, his smile dwindling. "I'll let you escape back inside, if that is what you desire so much, but you must kiss me first."

The boy's mouth opened to protest before he could snap it back shut. What could he possibly say to end this without pain?

"I have makeup on," Aaron blurted out. It was an embarrassing excuse, but he couldn't think of another. The other man clearly already knew the boy didn't want to be seated next to him.

Smiling again, the master released his cheek, dug into a pants pocket, and pulled out a handkerchief. The hand gripping Aaron's arm came to the back of his bare neck as delicate wipes played over his lips. When finished, Aaron saw the pink smears on the otherwise white, pristine cloth. Master Mihar laid the fabric on his own lap, keeping his hand there, and waited with his other hand still at Aaron's neck.

When Aaron finally realized that the master had no intention of starting the kiss himself, Aaron couldn't help his fear that quickened breath and brought a light layer of moisture to dampen parts of his body. He swallowed, his jaw tight, but then hesitantly leaned forward.

A quiet purr, the blue-eyed man said, "Keep in mind: A peck will never do. I'll be the one to end it."

Aaron had kissed others before, but they had been quick things and, more recently, rough and quick. He didn't want to kiss him, at all, but as those deep blue eyes refused to close as Aaron drew closer, he forced his heart and mind to deaden.

At the first touch, Master Mihar's lips were slightly parted and soft. Closing his eyes to distance himself further, Aaron tried to soften his own, to please the other man so that the whole ordeal could end quicker.

He'd seen others kiss, both in his family and out of it. His father had kissed his mother often enough before her health had declined. He pictured those times, which kept his heart out of the movements of his mouth, and let the other man guide him. Soon though, the gripping, caressing fingers at his neck and cheek, the softness of Master Mihar's lips and his own, the wet sounds they made together quickened Aaron's breaths for a whole other reason as his body betrayed him.

The teenager wished then that the master would have been rough with him so that he could hate him for what they were doing together. This was far worse, his anger and suffering becoming harder and harder for him to feel. He hated his body so much. He hated the man for doing this, almost as much as himself.

After so much pain and misery, how could his body even want the touch of another anymore? He could only guess it remembered the warm caresses of his mother and searched for them wherever it could.

Aaron wanted that love again. So badly. But could anyone ever give it to him?

Fingers ran across his cheeks, wiping at wetness, as the master pulled away. Barely heard, the man whispered, "You are so beautiful."

Could pain be beautiful? Apparently so.

Master Mihar picked the cloth back up and dabbed under Aaron's eyes, wiping up any running blackness. He huffed a small laugh, smiling. "I've messed up all of Nickolas' hard work."

Aaron had to fight to not pull away and was so glad when the other man finally let him go and stood up. The boy took the offered hand and stood, expecting to go back to the room. Instead, the master led him deeper, towards the middle, and to a light post.

"One more thing. Take off your robe." When Aaron merely stood there, flabbergasted, he added, "I don't-can't believe the report Nickolas gave me. I want to see it for myself."

The teenager's mouth went dry when he realized what the other man was talking about. His hands shook as he tried to comply and couldn't manage to untie the knot. After a few moments, the blue-eyed man stepped forward and simply opened the robe at the chest, pushing it over his shoulders. Scars from cuts and lashes crisscrossed over his torso. And on his back, the other man would have seen plenty more if he had turned him around. Scars rested on the inside too from broken bones and torn muscles. The look on Master Mihar's face coursed the trembles through his body. The look was death.

"Don't hurt him." Even as he said it, he didn't know why he did, but... As much as he hated his father, grew ill at the sight and drunken smell of him, he still loved him and hoped.

At that moment, Aaron realized he hated hope more than anything. It was what kept him alive.

"How did that man manage to not kill you?" the other man mumbled, more to himself than to Aaron, and then pulled the robe up and straightened it for him. "Let's go back inside."

Aaron followed him back, light-headed, unable to stop the trembles. When he reentered, keeping his eyes downcast, he immediately sat back down on his pillow, and just concentrated on remaining upright.

Minutes later, Nickolas appeared in front of him. "Come."

The boy blinked at the word, looking up. The man's face was almost unfamiliar. But then the single word clicked in his head and he managed to stand upright. He followed after the taller man, up the stairs, through the hallways, and was led directly to his small bedroom.

Nickolas stripped the robe off of him, leaving the pants on, and encouraged him to lay on the bed. Considering how plain the bed was, it was remarkably soft as it conformed to his body. The older man left. A minute later, he returned with a pan of warm water and a wash cloth. He wiped Aaron's face down, carefully but quickly.

In the middle of it, looking at the ceiling, Aaron started shaking his head. "You lied to me."

Nickolas slowed down only briefly, but then hurried to finish the task. When he stood to leave, he said, "There's a bathroom on the other end of the room, behind the door." He gestured to it, but Aaron couldn't stop his glare at the ceiling. "I'm going to lock the door, but if you feel up to it, knock and I'll open it for you. Otherwise, you can sleep until morning, if you wish."

So that was it? His first day in hell, well, in another hell was complete? He wished the other man would just leave already.

His secondary master stood at the side of the bed for a few more heartbeats but then finally walked to the door, closed it, and locked it, as promised. It took another few moments for Aaron to hear the man's bare feet pad away.

With the condemnation of locking the door, the teenager realized then that he still hadn't received his promised punishment from his earlier attempt to run. A bit of mercy? Maybe.

Aaron curled up on the small bed and cried more tears he'd promised himself he wasn't going to. He couldn't even trust himself. How could he expect it of anyone else? Not caring for the moment, he let the tears carry him off to sleep, his body more than desperate for it after a day of mind-numbing, miserable change.

A bodily urge awoke him hours later, demanding the use of the bathroom. The room nearly black with only a bit of light coming from the small window, his hands felt out and legs shuffled since he had no idea where the light switch was. Luckily the room was nearly empty.

Finding his way back, he thought he heard weak vocalizations from the next room. Edging to it, he pressed his ear to the door. The male voice rose and fell in quick successions, a lower one mingled with it. It took him only a moment to understand the sounds.

The boy reached for the doorknob and turned it gently. He blinked when it clicked open, not expecting the slight bounce that followed as the door's bolt disengaged. Had Nickolas checked on him during the night and had forgotten to lock the door? The sound was slight, but had his heart hammering. He listened again. The noises hadn't stopped.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered to himself. He knew he should have just gone to bed. Whatever was going on out there, he didn't want to see it. But then why was he edging the door open? He just... wanted to see...

Nickolas... What could make the man sound like he was being willingly consumed?

When he had enough room to peek his head out, he saw the two men on the bed. The light was dim but shined on them and allow him to see their naked bodies. A large, well-muscled man, with dark crimson curls just long enough to get into his eyes, kneeled on the bed almost facing Aaron head-on. Nickolas had his legs wrapped around him, his hips up in the air and held onto by the redhead, his back arched, as his lover pounded into him. Each thrust and retraction brought vocalizations out of Nickolas that had Aaron responding to the desire he heard in them.

Aaron had never heard such passionate sounds before. He couldn't help but wonder, if he hadn't been in the next room, if Nickolas would have been much louder. His master seemed to want every single stroke, every slam of their bodies. Maybe he did.

Aaron stood there for what felt like an eternity, watching them as Nickolas' voice began to hitch, and his hand shifted to the hardened length that ran down his leg. He gave it a slight squeeze and bit back a moan. He only managed one solid stroke before he realized the large man's eyes had caught sight of him. Freezing, he hoped he was just mistaken, but then the man's hand released his master's hip and curled a finger at him.

In that same moment, Nickolas turned his head and caught sight of who his lover had gestured to. "No. He-" Words failed him as he arched his back, a panting moan racking his body, when his lover gripped his length.

The man's pounding never relenting. Nickolas had said he no longer played the game, that he had his own master. Was this man him? Between heavy breaths, loud enough for Aaron to hear, the redhead said, "He wants to watch. Come here, boy."

Come here. There were those words again. This time, Aaron found it difficult to not walk up to them as Nickolas' head tilted back from a particularly hard thrust.

Then his feet started moving. As he walked forward, it felt like a dream. Maybe he was still sleeping. He had to have been. This moaning, sweat-drenched man was nothing like his cold, angry, calculated, lying master.

When he got closer, he realized Nickolas' clenched hands had been bound together with a black cord that looked like it was gnawing into his flesh. His arms laid above his head, his forearms reaching over the side of the bed. His eyes were clenched shut as well. His mouth, however, stayed open for his gasping breaths and moans. The man was unbelievably beautiful as he was being taken.

At the side of the bed, looking down at his master, Aaron almost had to wonder if Nickolas had already forgotten he was there. And he had to wonder why he was even standing there, a willing witness. He looked to their connected groins and realized the size of the man's erection and understood Nickolas' need for concentration.

"He's going to come soon. Watch his breathing, his trembling, his twitching cock," rumbled out of the redhead's chest, his grips on his lover's hips digging in, making Nickolas moan louder. "Stroke him for me, would you? It won't take much."

Nickolas' moans became near sobs, his entire face clenched. He started mumbling something, but Aaron couldn't make it out.

"Tell him you want it. Your boy's unsure."

"Please," was all Aaron could make out between the groan-filled mumblings.

The teenager's own erection strained against his pants. He wanted to touch it, but couldn't, his embarrassment over his own desire flushing his cheeks. Then, finally, Nickolas opened his eyes and looked up at him. The pleading there let Aaron shift onto his knees on the bed. The redhead slowed down as Aaron inched forward, to Nickolas' side, and then cautiously gripped the length surrounded by ebony curls.

His hand glided easily with the foreskin. More precum oozed from tip with each stroke. At the sight of it, Aaron had the urge to lick at it, to taste him, but didn't dare. Nickolas' hips began pumping just a bit faster, riding the erection inside of him, encouraging a faster rhythm. As the redhead had said, it didn't take long for Aaron's master's groin, his whole body to tense repeatedly, shots of cum hitting his chest. Aaron's own breaths shaky, he squeezed his pumps until it was mere dribbles and then let go, although he found he really didn't want to. He figured he had his own untouched hardness to blame for that.

Then Nickolas' lover again picked up his pace, pounding, grunting, moaning, until he finally came a minute later. Nickolas' groans matched every one of his lover's calls that echoed in the room. Aaron couldn't help his own groans. He'd never watched people make love before, let alone participated in it.

The large man gathered Nickolas up into his lap, Aaron's master's bound hands going around his neck. Nickolas pumped his hips slightly as they kissed, as if he couldn't get enough of the man's length. Aaron listened to the wet sounds and couldn't help his blush, nor his hand shifting to his groin. But the burly man batted his hand away.

"Return the favor," the redhead said to Nickolas.

His master shifted in his lover's lap to look down on Aaron, his expression unreadable. Apparently seeing where encouragement was needed, the redhead pulled his arms from around his head, lifted him off of his lap and sat him in front of Aaron. Then he shifted behind Nickolas, lifted his hips back up into the air, and entered him in one solid thrust. Aaron's master's face so close to his own, Aaron watched the pain mixed with pleasure wash over him, utterly enthralled and lost in the expression.

Then his master's eyes cracked open, looking at him, searching his face before another pounding. Whatever he found in Aaron's face must have broken him. "Take it out. I can't."

Nickolas probably could have, but maybe he was giving Aaron a chance to run away. Instead, the boy pulled his length out as Nickolas watched. Then the older man went down on his elbows and sucked the whole length of him, taking him into his throat with a bit of a gagging sound. His mouth matched his lover's thrusts in ferocity, as he tried to suck the cum out of him.

The throaty sounds reminded him of his father's rammings, but the feel of Nickolas worked on him until he didn't care. After a couple of minutes, Aaron began to thrust his hips, pushing into the man's face, his arms behind him, aiding his movements. It didn't occur to Aaron until afterwards that the other man and himself matched their thrusts so that Nickolas was pinned between them. But at that moment, all he could think about was the awesome feel of Nickolas' mouth and throat, the feel of his own length, the tightening of his sack as he shot his cum down his master's throat.

Aaron backside fell back onto his feet, his length coming out of Nickolas' mouth, but then the redhead's brutal thrusts pushed his head against Aaron's stomach and groin until the large man finally pounded his last drop of cum into Nickolas' body. The boy tried to pull back, worried that his master couldn't breathe, but the redhead pulled on his hips and Nickolas' trembling body came back up on all fours. His eyes never opened.

The redhead smiled down at Aaron, forcing a blush on the boy as red as his hair. "Go back to sleep. Your master has had his fill."

Putting his length back inside of his pants, Aaron shoved himself off of the bed and all but ran back to his small bedroom, closing the door before he slid down its length and sat on the ground. It took him several minutes before he could get his breathing back to normal. It didn't help that he only heard more moans from the room behind him.

 

 

**Chapter 6: Running in Alleyways**

 

With dawn cracking through the small window, Aaron finally rolled off of the bed, giving up on the idea of sleep. He ran a hand through his messed up hair, taking out the ribbon completely in the process, and tried to figure out what he was supposed to do.

He'd been laying in the bed for hours, remembering what he'd seen and done to Nickolas. He still couldn't believe his own wantonness, nor the hardness afterwards that had frequented between his curled up legs that he had refused to touch.

His confusion was absolute. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. What he was capable of. He'd always thought of himself as the victim. Now...

Now he couldn't get the vision of Nickolas' arching, aching body out of his head.

Aaron gripped his hair and plopped back down on the bed. How was he ever supposed to forget? Worse, he wanted to see it again, to see the man writhe underneath him, panting, begging, wanting him.

Were these thoughts a curse from his father? A faulty engraving in his mind that might never be repaired? Was he doomed to want to make another suffer as he had? But no, he didn't want to make Nickolas suffer. He just...

The boy shook his head. Ill after hours with his own thoughts, he stood back up and walked to the door. He didn't want to be alone anymore, not when Nickolas was so close by. He had to see the man and make sure...

He was so scared that he'd hurt Nickolas, that the older man would never forgive him for taking advantage of the situation. He could have stayed in his room, after all. He could have closed the door when the red-haired man had motioned to him. He could have stopped it at any point and taken any punishment for disobeying.

Instead, he'd...

His feet, his legs, his whole body felt numb as he walked to the door. He opened it as cautiously as he'd done the night before.

Clothed in a robe, Nickolas sat some distance away at the table. He appeared to be eating and reading a thick book his hand was draped over to keep the page. Aaron crept forward, readying himself for retaliation, punishment, anything. But even though the man had surely heard his approach in the quiet room, Nickolas never acknowledged his presence.

When he finally stood behind him, Aaron couldn't make himself do anything more. Sensibility told him he should have sat down, acted like the night before had never happened, go on with his training, be a good boy and make his masters, the ones who provided for him, proud.

Instead, he stood behind the taller man, tracing his eyes over his straight, stiff body, remembering how much different it shaped itself in the throes of passion. Nickolas' hair was swept up in a ponytail, showing his long neck, the delicate, slightly-bronzed skin there. He could count the top few bumps of his spine. As he did, he longed to touch them, to feel the hardness under soft flesh.

His breaths growing heavy, he couldn't believe how much had changed in one day to the next. What was wrong with him? This wasn't how he responded to people. He normally disengaged, fled, made himself non-existent. But then, he remembered, there was a time when he'd felt this way, had wanted the company of another, had never wanted to leave the comfort of his mother's arms.

This time, however, there was more to it. He wanted more and could only assume it was because of his maturing body. He wanted so much more and was so scared of rejection by the man he'd set his sights on.

All of this because of one night of pleasure?

Aaron took another step forward until he was nearly against the man's chair. Finally, Nickolas raised his head in acknowledgement. The moment lengthened and enabled Aaron to grow courage enough to reach out and touch the back of the man's neck, with a delicate caress of his fingertips. The taller man's sucked in a breath, but didn't respond further as the fingers traveled down until Aaron pulled slightly at the collar of his robe which was already draped a bit down his back.

When Aaron leaned forward and touched his lips to where his fingers had been, Nickolas said, his voice low, soft, "Do you remember what I told you yesterday?"

The words weren't a total rejection, so Aaron let his fingers push under his robe, revealing a shoulder. "Which part?"

"I can't take you, Aaron. Master Mihar has forbidden anyone that pleasure."

Unsurprised by the words considering the night before in the garden, unthinkingly, he whispered, "What if I took you?"

Aaron dropping his hand, Nickolas finally turned his head, then his whole body in the chair, so that he could look up at the teenager. He had already expected a rejection, but found his pulse rising at the other man's sudden smile.

"My master wouldn't allow it. What happened last night happened with his approval." When Aaron couldn't stop himself from touching the other man's cheek, their eyes locked, Nickolas murmured, "If I'd known it'd be so easy to embolden you..." His smile sank away with a small shake of his head, before he stated, "Aaron... You can't love me. Love doesn't exist in this life."

"But you and your master."

"I love him in ways, but..." Nickolas shook his head, looking to the bed in the distance. His mind worked over something, as Aaron watched, helpless but rejecting the other man's opinions on love. "I'm nothing more than his concubine. He has a family, children. His wife only allows him this because I stay here. I'd never be allowed into their home." The older man met his eyes again. "Do you understand? We give pleasure, we take pleasure, but in the end, they go home. Don't expect more or you'll spend your time here heartbroken."

Not willing to give up yet, Aaron offered, "We are home though."

The words renewed Nickolas' smile. "We will be separated. Someday soon, we may barely even see each other anymore even though we live in the same household."

The words eroded his sensibilities. "But... If we could, would you..."

The smile drifted away. He knew what Nickolas' response was going to be. He could see it in the man's hardening eyes. Instead of allowing him to speak the words, he dived down and claimed his master's mouth. For a moment, Nickolas refused to kiss back, but then, melting Aaron's will for any restraint, the older man kissed back slowly, hesitantly, obviously not sure if he should be doing it at all. It was more than Aaron could have hoped for.

The teenager gripped his master's cheeks, kissing with soft, but demanding lips, and then licking, loving the taste of the peaches in him, when Nickolas opened his mouth to him.

Keeping ahold on his cheeks, Aaron broke kiss reluctantly and walked around the chair until their legs pressed together. When Nickolas opened his knees to him, his robe separating to reveal the barest hints of his length, blood flooded to the boy's groin, his growing erection wanting to be inside this man. With the step forward, He pressed the proof of his desire against his master's torso.

A controversy, Nickolas' hands traced up Aaron's upper legs until they gripped his buttocks, pressing what was hidden against himself, and the man himself said, "We can't."

"Who will know?"

"I'll know. Aaron, we don't love each other. We barely know each other. I won't ruin our lives here for a few minutes of pleasure that will get you nowhere."

Was that really all the other man saw between them? He remembered then that there'd been other boys in this room and surely many other lovers, even if only temporary ones. And here Nickolas was, alone and as heartless as he'd ever been. Raven brows dropped into a scowl. The rejection and reality of the situation finally became real.

"You call this a life?" Aaron tried to twist away, but the man wasn't letting him. He gripped at the arms restraining him. "Let me go, you bastard!"

"It's the reality of it."

"You've obviously been here too long. There's so much out there and I've seen hardly any of it. I'm not going to spend my life here! I don't care if I was bought and paid for. I didn't agree to any of this!"

"He'll chain you up if you try to leave. At least right now you have a certain amount of freedom. He's not going to simply let you go. As it is, you're not going to have a home to go back to."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your father, he's not going to let him live. He may already be dead."

Aaron's eyes went wide. "How-How do you know this?"

"Last night, he said as much."

"And you didn't tell me?!"

"The master is a sadistic man, nothing like his parents were. If he set his mind on it, there's nothing either us can do about it."

Aaron didn't believe that for a second. There was always -something- that could be done, whether or not it was a pleasant choice. And Master Mihar had never appeared to be cruel to him. Greedy maybe, lustful definitely, but not as cold as Nickolas was making him out to be. Had Aaron known the depth of Master Mihar's anger, he could have tried to reason with him. Done something, anything to be granted mercy.

Shoving at the man's shoulders, his whole body enraged, he shouted, "You don't know that! You didn't have the right to decide that. You should have told me!"

Nickolas took the aggressiveness and merely held him tighter. "I'm sorry... Last night you were..."

"Don't use that as an excuse!"

The teenager knew he had to calm down. He had to get Nickolas to calm down. He'd never get away from him until they did. He could be calm when he had to be. His father had taught him, over the course of years, how to be still, obedient, submissive. He could be like that right now, despite the war awoken in him in the last twenty-four hours.

Chocolate-colored eyes clenching shut, he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He forced his harsh breathing through his nose to soften.

Calm down, he told himself, calm down.

When he finally opened his eyes again, Nickolas was watching him. There was a quiet moment, both men assessing each other before the older man finally said, "Why do you want to save him after everything he's done to you?"

"He didn't mean to do any of it. He just... He can't control himself when he drinks. And he drinks all the time." The words brought instant tears to his eyes.

"Then how do you know he can control himself if he doesn't drink?"

"I... I don't know. But he's not cruel."

"Have you looked at yourself? I don't know another person alive who has been put through so much and is still living."

The words pained him, made him want to curl up and die as they shoved his own pain in his face. "I don't know why I'm still alive. I should be dead. I've wanted to be, but..."

_What am I saying? Why the hell am I telling this man these things?_

The bastard had somehow got him talking. Even worse, Nickolas could have been reporting everything Aaron said to Master Mihar. The teenager forced himself to realize that he didn't really know what was going on here. All he knew for sure was that he had to get out.

Aaron pressed his lips together, then looked down with feigned weary eyes. "I... Maybe you're right... But I don't want to talk about it anymore. Please... Can I just sit down?"

Nickolas held him for a bit longer, but then did let go, watching Aaron's every movement. Knowing better than to simply try to run, Aaron walked around to the other side of the table and sat down. There was a plate for him there, he realized. He placed some food on his plate, trying to distract Nickolas with normality so that he could work out some kind of meager plan.

Eating what he could stomach, he refused to make eye contact with the other man. Soon enough, Nickolas walked away to the bathroom, and Aaron heard the shower turn on. He eyed the open bathroom door, and then paced himself as he moved to the closet, picking out a simple emerald green tunic that was folded up. If they'd had a relationship, at least he would have known the man's favorite color. Or was it Nickolas' master's favorite color? And what did it matter? After slipping the shirt on, he grabbed a pair of scrunched up slippers that looked like they'd stay on his feet.

The slippers barely made a sound as he hastened to the bedchamber door. He opened it slowly, peering out. No one was in the hallway. The way to the front of the building was obvious, too obvious. There had to be a servant passages too. Instead of going the obvious way, he went to the back of the building. He smiled when he caught sight of a much smaller set of stairs.

His body stilled as he listened for footsteps. It was quiet. Perhaps it was still too early for most people to be up. Aaron hurried down the stairs then and down the adjoining hallway. After all, whatever fate had in store for him, why wait for it to happen when he could get it over with?

Finally, he heard voices. Out of the rooms at the end of the hallway, conversations played out, but he couldn't understand the words, even when he got closer, and assumed they were of a different language. Considering that and the small hallways, he had to assume he was in the servant's wing. The smells of food whiffed at his nose the closer he got and let him know he hadn't eaten enough. It was too late now.

Aaron turned a corner and saw a door at the end of it that had a lock on the inside, meaning it kept people out. He jogged towards it and almost ran into a woman who'd come out a door to his right. Considering how fast he was going, he wasn't surprised when she said something to him. But he couldn't understand her.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't understand." He tried to move around her, but her voice raised a few notches until she was almost shrieking. He put out his hands, trying to steady her like a horse. "Okay, okay. Just calm down."

His stopping seemed to calm her down more than his words. Her blabbering continued and she started pointing back the way he'd come.

What was he supposed to do? Run to the door and hope? Knock her out? Go back to Nickolas and be defeated? The latter two were out of the question, so he ran around her and to the door. Her shrieking reached an all new height of pain. Footsteps pounded behind him.

Aaron slammed into the door, unlocking it in the process. It took almost a second too long. Fingers brushed his sleeve as he slammed the door open, nailing whoever had tried to grab him with the wooden structure. He darted out into the alleyway, past garbage cans, never stopping for a second.

There wasn't a soul who would help him. The houses of whores apparently had the law on their side. Although he'd never known the intricacies of such a house, he knew enough to trust no one.

His path was almost aimless, but he knew the general direction of his home from the position of the sun. If he could get to the edge of the city, he could figure out where he was and where he had to go.

With the shouting behind him growing distant, several blocks away, sticking with alleyways as much as he could, he started feeling a nausea and dizziness completely unfamiliar to him. The more his feet moved, the worse it became. Eventually, he was more staggering than moving forward.

"What's wrong with me," he choked out into the cool morning air.

Whatever it was, it only became worse. He had to get off of the streets. He looked around, and spotted a large dumpster. He opened the lid. Lined in years of rot, it smelled horrid, but it was mostly empty. He could only hope it wasn't garbage day. With a last bit of awareness, he swung himself inside, landing hard. He barely had time to worry about any additional pain as he lost consciousness.

 

 

**Chapter 7: Coming Home**

 

Aaron awoke to the suffocating smell of sun-heated garbage. For several minutes, he could barely find a thought in his head. Whenever he tried to open his eyes, the world wouldn't focus, nor would his mind. Confused, disorientated, he resorted to simply laying there while his body struggled to wake up, breathing through his mouth. Eventually, as thoughts formed, he remembered where he was and how he'd gotten to that point.

When his body seemed more capable, he cracked his eyes open again. Light warmed lines around the lid. He had no clue what time it was, but considering the sounds of traffic and people, he assumed was still daytime. Hopefully the same day.

Slowly, he edged onto his side, trying to ignore the squishiness and pokiness of what was underneath him. When he sat up though, his throbbing, swimming head finally brought up the contents of his stomach. His stomach heaved for a seeming eternity, tears coming to his eyes, small sobs escaping his lips, his arms trembling to keep him upright and out of the new mess.

The sickness reminded him of his father, how he was when he drank too much. But Aaron hadn't consumed any alcohol, at least none that he knew of. He could only think of one other time he'd felt like this. That was when he'd been put under by his doctor.

Had he been drugged, he wondered. When he'd been put out before as a child, it hadn't hit him nearly as bad. Maybe he'd made it worse by running through the city like a crazy person.

But now, the aftereffects felt exactly the same. It was one of the reasons he never took drugs, only took even painkillers by force. Drugs had always made him feel ill, even when they were supposed to help.

It must have been the food he'd barely eaten, he realized. But why in the world would Nickolas have drugged him? Unless he'd expected him to try to run. But that didn't seem like the right reason. They hadn't drugged him to that point. Why would they have started that morning?

"And what does it matter," he growled to himself, standing on wobbly legs, his feet sinking downwards.

He had to get out. He couldn't stand the encased smell anymore, especially with the new addition of vomit. He pushed at the lid, saw only a few people passing by at the ends of the alleyway, and leveraged himself back out. His landing was less than graceful, only staying upright by the grips of his hands on the warm metal. He looked up, and realized it was around noon.

The effect of whatever was inside of him made his walk uneven, but he couldn't help that. He supposed he could have hid in some corner and hoped, while the final effects wore off, but his feet wouldn't stop moving. He just wanted to get out of the city. Once he was out, he could rest and recover.

The teenager was sure he could make it home by nightfall, and tried to not think about what was probably waiting there for him.

The people around him went on about their days as if there wasn't torture and rape, under the guise of pleasure, happening behind the walls of the buildings. They ignored him, for the most part, but he still received some familiar groping looks, which he tried his best to ignore. Acknowledging them wouldn't have helped him at that moment.

By the time his steps were surer, with a few more blocks between him and his master's home, someone grabbed his arm and swung him around.

The police officer took less than a second to study his face and then started talking into the device he pushed a button on that was attached to his shirt. "I've located the boy Mihar is looking for." He began rattling off their location, while pulling him down the street, back the way Aaron had come.

When Aaron realized what the policeman was trying to do, he fought with all of his strength to get free, yanking, clawing at the limb holding his upper arm. At the revolt, the man stopped talking and used his other arm to help restrain the thrashing boy, wrenching Aaron's arms behind his back. At that, Aaron kicked out, bucked his head, but the other man was too heavily built and too much taller than himself to make a difference. The crowd made space around them but had no problem watching the assault. It was probably the most amusing thing they were going to see all day.

"Stop it, kid!"

Was the officer actually trying to reason with him? He realized then that the bulky man was probably afraid of hurting him, the boy being the property of another. That made him fight harder. The policeman lost his balance for a moment, but then slammed the teenager against the nearest brick wall. The impact knocked Aaron's head and the air out of his lungs. Dazed, he couldn't stop his hands from being handcuffed.

"Fucking hell," the man blurted out behind him, almost breathing as heavily as Aaron was.

Not bothering to hide his fury, the man dragged him to a police car a short distance away, shoved him inside so fiercely that his head hit the door on the opposite side, although not enough to cause serious pain, and slammed the door closed behind him.

Aaron jerked his head up, glaring and shouting at the man to let him out, and found himself slightly satisfied when he saw the man examining his shredded arm for a moment.

The policeman shouted at the crowd, "Go about your business!" Then he stalked to the other side of his car, to the driver's side, got in the car, slamming his door, and started off at the normal, fast cop-speed.

When they drove up to Master Mihar's front entrance, Aaron almost expected Nickolas to charge outside, spitting with fury. Instead it was another man he'd never seen before and the woman from yesterday at his side. The woman talked in hushed tones with the police officer as Master Mihar's man pulled Aaron roughly out of the car. The teenager knew he wasn't helping matters by continuing his fight, but he couldn't help it. He had never been so frantic in his life.

It was bad enough knowing he'd failed. He also had no idea what punishment awaited him inside the building, although if Nickolas's words were correct, it involved chains.

The man stood with him on the sidewalk and barked, "Can you take these off?"

Booted feet pounded up behind him. The handcuffs came off of his wrists with a couple of clicks. The man at Aaron's side only increased his grip and heaved him towards the large front door of his prison.

The fight drained out of the boy as the two of them made their way upstairs, not wanting to be in pain anymore. It wasn't worth it.

Instead of heading to Nickolas' side of the building though, they headed towards the direction of the master's study, although they were a floor lower.

When the man opened the door and Aaron saw the empty, dark room, he almost expected to be merely shoved inside and locked in. Apparently that wasn't the plan as the man continued in, opened a metal cabinet, and to Aaron's horror, grabbed a leather collar with a long chain attached to it and two padlocks. Even when the metal door closed, wide-eyed, Aaron couldn't get the vision out of his mind of what else the cabinet contained.

When Nickolas had said the words about being chained up and about Master Mihar's sadism, Aaron hadn't truly believed him. Hadn't wanted to. Now he did.

The large man had no love for him as he shoved him down on the cement floor next to a thick metal loop bolted onto the floor. He secured the collar around his neck and the chain to the floor.

The man's only words, before he stood back up, were, "Damn, you stink, boy."

Then Aaron was left alone in the dark with nothing but his misery and apparently his smell. Minutes later, the door opened again. A blonde man in his twenties walked in, cautious, eyeing him. He turned on the light and Aaron squeezed his eyes shut, whipping his head away, as the door clicked shut.

When his eyes adjusted enough, in the brightness of the light, Aaron could finally examine the windowless room properly. The entire room was floored in concrete. The floor dipped in a couple of places to drains. Along the walls were a simple, unsheltered toilet and sink, a hose and bucket, a cot, and a couple of metal cabinets. He didn't want to know what was in the second one.

The man walked up to him. Aaron caught the sight of sharp metal in his hand and flung himself backwards.

"Hey, hey, don't move. I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Corian." He took a few more steps and crouched down with enough distance that Aaron would have had to lunge to attack. "I'm going to clean you off, okay? Don't touch me or anything or I'll have your hands and legs bound... Understand?"

Starting forward again, he came to his knees and brought the scissors to the edge of his tunic, and cut up the length of his chest and then down the sleeves. The man shook his head at his efforts, his face crinkling. "He should have taken this off beforehand, but he was complaining... Why do you smell like that?"

"I..." Aaron started. Well, what did it matter if he talked? At least the man seemed nice enough, although the blonde hair, the style of it, reminded him of his father. "I climbed into a dumpster."

"Seriously? You must have been swimming in it."

"Well, I was in there a few hours."

"I believe it."

Despite himself, Aaron let out a huff. He closed his eyes, not wanting to be there, as the man stripped him, taking off his slippers and cutting off the pants as well. He shifted when urged to, but otherwise nonetheless resigned to his fate. He heard a bag crinkle and assumed his clothes were being shoved inside. The same crinkle sounded a short distance away, the bag being tossed to the side. As Aaron listened, he walked away for a moment but then came back to him.

"I'm going to have to hose you down. They're not going to drag a tub in here or anything. It's cold water. I'll be as quick as I can."

The man handed him a bar of soap, turned on the water, gripping the hose. Sure enough, the water felt like ice. Aaron called out at the first splash. The cement floor did nothing to help him keep his warmth. A few seconds later, thoroughly drenched, the water turned off.

"Scrub up and then I'll rinse you off."

His limbs already getting stiff from the cold, he scrubbed the best he could.

"Your hair too."

When he'd scrubbed to the point that the other man was satisfied, Corian took the soap back, putting it back on a dish by the sink, turned the water back on, and rinsed him off thoroughly, asking him to shift when needed. Aaron complied the best he could. After the water shut off again, a large towel wrapped around him as the man helped him stand up and walk to the cot. The chain was long enough to do that and still have some excess. Corian rubbed the towel a bit, sucking up the rest of the water in it, and then urged him to get under the covers.

"Don't freak out, but I'm going to lay with you and help you get warmed up faster. No sense in you getting sick."

Then he slipped under the covers with him, over him, without waiting for affirmation or complaint. Aaron was too worn out and chilled to complain. The man urged him to his side, and then spooned him from behind, his face nestled in his damp hair. They laid there like that for several minutes until Aaron couldn't stop the tears falling from his eyes. His body shuddered with a small sob.

The man hushed him, and murmured, "It's all right. Be glad we have a kinder master. Other places, runaways lose limbs. I've seen some of them on the streets, begging for scraps... But don't think you can do anything you want. Sometimes, he does sell one of us off. Knowing the master though, you'll have another chance, and you won't be in this room long."

Maybe some people were comforted by such words, but Aaron couldn't have imagined who would have been. His eyes lidded and they laid their together for at least thirty minutes, although Aaron didn't know for sure how long. He just let himself doze, imagining his father dead and with his dead mother. And he was jealous. So jealous.

"I have to get back. Try to sleep some. I'll bring you some food in a bit, if you're up to it." Corian shifted from behind him, crawling back over, picked up the towel and bag, and left the room.

Food? He wanted to laugh at the suggestion. He didn't know if he could ever eat again, if he even wanted to. How long would it take to die of starvation, he wondered. Considering his lack of fat and proper muscle, probably not long, but still days at least. Would they even allow that? He imagined them forcing food down his throat and tried to block out the image.

A while later, maybe two or three hours, the door opened again. He cracked open his eyes and bolted upright to sit on the bed at the sight of Master Mihar. The man didn't look particularly perturbed or angry, but that didn't stop Aaron from also shoving himself backwards, his backside hitting the wall. The chain clinked and reminded him of his position. Heat flooded his face. The man walked forward until he had seated himself on the cot. Aaron pulled the blanket up higher on his naked body, bringing his knees to his chin.

There was no place to hide in the room. So he tried to be small, knowing at the same time that such a posture didn't have even a remote chance of dissuading the other man from whatever he had planned.

The master breathed out a shallow breath, watching him for a bit, before he murmured, "Mr. Laskin confessed what he told you about your father, and I assure you it's not true. I would never do that."

Confessed? What could make Nickolas confess? And did he believe Master Mihar about his father? "He..."

"Mr. Laskin is a jealous, bitter man, too pampered for his own good. I only keep him on my staff because I must remain on good terms with his master. Otherwise I would put him out on the streets where he belongs." The man shook his head, his long raven hair loose and cascading over his shoulders. "I should have known better than to allow him to provide your training." He smiled softly and leaned forward a bit, his elbow resting on his leg. "Well, from now on, I'll train you myself, as I should have from the start."

Aaron watched the man, his moving lips and his mannerisms carefully. He could feel deceit curling around the words and the other man's face, but he also wondered if it was his imagination. Considering everything in his life, had he ever been a good judge of character? He didn't know. Nor did he know if he should trust this man in the least, but at the moment, he didn't have much choice but to sit there.

Well, he could have leapt forward and strangled the man with his own chain. But where would that get him? He supposed, at the very least, it would have been satisfying to watch his shocked eyes and tongue bulge out of his face.

The boy swallowed at the dark thoughts and closed his eyes. His master shifted on the bed, coming closer. Aaron kept his eyes closed, even when the backs of fingers touched his cheek, trailed down his throat, caressed his bare shoulder. When they tried to go lower though, the boy jerked away.

Master Mihar sighed, his hand dropping. "I never should have let Nickolas near you."

Aaron wanted to laugh. What in the world did any of this have to do with Nickolas? He was already over his ill-conceived puppy love for the man. Nickolas wasn't why he'd run away. Nor was he why his master's touch made Aaron cringe. Well, then again Nickolas' warning did have something to do with that.

But Aaron mostly just didn't want this man to own him, to have him chained up, to use him. Couldn't the man understand that?

"If you wanted me so badly... You didn't have to do it this way. Any of this."

"Do you think so? If I saw you on the street, would you talk to me? Even just glance at me?"

Aaron didn't understand this man at all. What did it matter if he did those things or not? The man seemed to place him on a pedestal he didn't belong on, one that he'd only topple off of sooner or later.

"If I thought you wouldn't run away," the man said as he touched the length of the chain between them, "that you'd stay here, with me, I'd give you all the freedom you desire, and so much more."

Overwhelmed by the words, shaking his head, the boy couldn't help but ask an all-encompassing, "Why?"

"If you must know..." The man smiled, looking to the distance, tucking long raven hair behind his ear, lost in some fantasy. "Since you obviously don't remember me: You were my first crush. My first love even. And my first kiss. Had I been able to make it so, you would have been my only one, and me yours, but we were young and not yet in control of our own fates."

The words destroyed any fight left in him. He'd only kissed one boy before coming to this man's home. It had been a quick, shy thing, but he remembered. He had been nine, going on ten, just months before his mother had died. A couple of years and grades above himself, the older boy had always tried to get him to smile. Had played with him when the other children wanted nothing to do with him, a farm boy whose family had never fit in at the private school. Well, the boy had €“tried- to play with him, but it'd been nearly impossible to overcome Aaron's silence.

Aaron looked at his master, really looked. The man had changed so much, but he could now see something of the child he remembered. "I-I remember you. But I'm sorry. I don't remember your name."

His master looked back at him and smiled. "Zaiden."

Aaron attempted a hesitant smile, feeling like he was being sucked into yet another tidal wave that would crash over him and drown him but nonetheless fail to kill him. He felt so lost and unsure.

Zaiden pulled himself closer, shifting on the cot until they were seated side by side. The man had a sweet scent, like the flowers in his garden. The scent reminded him of the smell of garbage and his own vomit.

Without really thinking about the words, his eyes closing, Aaron mumbled, "Why did you drug me?"

"That was... That's something you needn't worry about anymore. Before this morning, I thought merely being close to you would be enough. Now I realize that's not the case." He kissed the side of the teenager's head and whispered there, "I'm the only one who will ever touch you."

Aaron didn't know whether to be comforted or chilled by the final words. His mind could barely even start working through the runaround to his question. Quickly, he gave up on thinking, worrying about all of it, so tired of his own mind and his fight against fate. He could think and worry again later and hate himself for giving in.

For now, he merely let himself enjoy the other man's close warmth and warmer lips.

 

 

**Chapter 8: Learning by Discipline**

 

The two man sat together, shoulder to shoulder, Zaiden's head leaning against his own. Neither had spoken for several minutes, Aaron listening to his master's breaths. Eventually, unable to doze off, he couldn't help but wonder at him.

Their closeness reminded Aaron of why he'd kissed the boy he'd known in the first place. Zaiden had a quietness, a patience, but nonetheless, a persistence. And his smiles. All of those things had eroded his sensibilities seven years before. They did so again now in the quiet of the room.

This time, however, there was an underlining tension between them, and Aaron knew that was because, this time, Zaiden wanted much more than Aaron's attention and a simple kiss. Then again, maybe he had wanted more back then, the boy being two years older than himself, but Aaron had stopped going to school soon after. He'd never seen the boy again. Then, his mother and father had made him forget so much of his previous life.

Sitting there with his master, he wanted to remember those times again. He wanted to be in them. Perhaps, this time around, he could have begged his mother to leave his father before it was too late, before he caused them both so much pain.

Being so small back then, he hadn't been able to protect her any more than he could himself. Had he been who he was now, sitting there next to a man who professed love to him, he would have tried so much harder to protect her, even if it'd meant more pain to himself. She'd protected him, after all, shielded him, and lied for him, taking the blame for his faults.

Why didn't she leave that man...?

A short while later, when Aaron finally did manage to close his eyes and still his mind, Zaiden kissed the side of his head again. "Aaron, unfortunately we must address your behavior while it's still fresh. I assure you, I can understand this morning, what you did after what Nickolas told you. But add onto that the incident yesterday, which Mr. Laskin informed me of, and your attack on the policeman... Well, we begin to see a pattern emerging. Without appropriate discipline, you may soon attack my staff, and I don't doubt for a second that you'll try running again."

Discipline? By the end of the words, Aaron wanted to be true to his master's concerns and bolt out of the room, but he knew his chain wouldn't even have made it to the door.

"Use the toilet now, if you can," Zaiden said as he shifted off of the cot.

Aaron looked to the unshielded toilet, his gaze already going in and out of focus at the idea of physical pain, which was surely what the other man was suggesting. The older man offered his hand.

When the boy didn't take it, his attention still elsewhere, Zaiden bent down and grabbed it, pulling. "Come on."

How could Zaiden be so calm about this? This calmness was nothing like his father's drunken rages that were still somehow called discipline. He couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around it.

The hand tugged him again and he found himself edging off of the cot, the covers slipping off of him. The man walked him to the 'bathroom' and stood him in front of the pristine toilet. He stared down at it, at the water, and wondered if he could put his head down in it and breathe in the liquid, drowning himself in a few inches of water. He knew he wasn't quite to that point though when the idea still made him cringe. Maybe after his discipline, he would be ready.

When the cabinet door opened, he realized Zaiden had walked away. He turned his head and swallowed at the man looking over the contents inside. Apparently his master had none of the trepidation Aaron had felt when he'd seen in there. Zaiden merely sorted through things Aaron couldn't see at that angle.

The boy swallowed and tried to focus on the task he'd been set to. It was better than thinking about the cabinet.

His mind told his body to relax as he gripped his limpness, aiming it at the toilet. But each rustle and clank only tightened the appropriate muscles right back up.

Out of sorts and nearly hysterical, Aaron hissed, "Could you stop that for a moment? I can't concentrate."

The noise did abruptly stop. He was sure Zaiden was staring at his naked backside, but couldn't manage to care. This was the first time the other man had seen him completely naked, but Zaiden had gone off to dig around in his toys. If Aaron's body was really going to affect his master enough that his simple nakedness would bring about rape, it would have already happened. The other man had barely even stared. He'd probably seen more than enough naked bodies in his lifetime. The idea brought more depression, pushing Aaron's new pathetic life in his face.

Nearly a minute later, he finally willed his body to relax and almost felt triumphant when a stream flowed out of him. He squeezed out the last couple of drops and then went to the sink to wash his hands with cold water, the hot knob not producing any water.

When he turned around, Zaiden was crouched down, watching closely, patiently, his brows edging downwards, looking once again looking like an animal and determining when to pounce. This time, Aaron thought the comparison was quite appropriate.

After they'd watched each other for a moment, Aaron's anxiety only growing, the blue-eyed man finally stood back up and said, "Lay on the bed, face down."

Aaron tried to find the boy he'd known in Zaiden's face, and unfortunately he did, and his man was still going to punish him for doing something reasonable, something anyone would have done in those circumstances.

Tears finally came to his eyes as his feet shuffled towards the bed. He laid down on it, as requested, turning his collar so the chain wasn't pressed into his neck. Laying there, he'd never felt more naked and vulnerable. Then again, time had a way of fading things.

When his master took a few seconds too long, he wondered why he was going about this so willingly. Shouldn't he fight? Protest, at least? Was he really so well trained by his father?

But since yesterday, he'd proven to himself more than once that he could fight, that he didn't have to take it.

So why am I laying here?

It was probably the chain about his neck, the pains in his body, and his lack of food, although by that point, he was glad his stomach was empty. He used those as his excuses when his master walked back up to him with a long triangular board and a thin wooden cane about the length of his forearm.

Aaron buried his face in the pillow and let his leg be drawn outwards, partially exposing his groin. The strength in the grip told him it wasn't up for discussion. Then he almost did fight when a strap went around his ankle. The strap went taunt as it was secured to the cot's frame. His other leg got the same treatment.

Then the room went silent, except for their breaths. Aaron was sure the master was looking at him. His legs were wide enough to expose his hole and his cold-tightened sack. He wondered if the man was going forget about 'discipline' and take him. But then Zaiden walked around the cot and pulled on one hand.

Finally, Aaron did fight, refusing to relax the arm. So, Zaiden merely strapped it while close to the boy's face.

When done, he murmured, "Relax."

The word brought tears to Aaron's eyes. "Please, I can't do this."

"I need to properly secure you, for both of our safety. It'll be over quickly, if you let it be. I won't make you suffer needlessly."

Hysterical laughter bubbled out of him along with the tears. How could the man talk so calmly, so reassuringly about something so sick?

"Please, I won't run. I won't." He hated the sound of his desperate voice, but couldn't help it.

The master crouched down again, making it easy for him to look him in the eye. "You need to learn your lesson."

"I have. I have!"

Then the man had the gall to smile at him. "You haven't."

If his legs weren't already strapped down, he didn't know what he would have done. As it was, he tried to pull his hand away and under his body. After everything, he couldn't believe how much being tied up, being completely helpless, terrified him. "Please, I'll do anything. You can have me. I'll suck you."

"Aaron..." The man frowned at him. "I told you, when I take you, you'll be begging me for it. Because you want it."

The boy couldn't believe the words. "I'll never want you!"

After he'd said it, when he saw anger flicker in the man's eyes, he completely regretted the words. Destroying a man's fantasy when strapped down obviously wasn't the best course of action.

Zaiden yanked on the strap. This time, Aaron didn't resist. Instead, he buried his face in the pillow and tried to be someplace else, hoping he could pass out from a lack of oxygen, although that probably would have only stalled the inevitable. Tears wet the cloth.

The other strap was secured quickly. Aaron assumed the man had done it many other times. The pillow was then yanked from under his head and dropped on the floor. He let his forehead rest against the firm, thin mattress.

"One day soon, you'll wonder why you ever wanted to fight me." Zaiden stood and continued talking while walking around to his side, eventually swooping down to pick up the board he'd left on the floor, "Have you heard of the term bastinado? It's a type of beating that involves the sole of the foot which, I feel, is quite appropriate in this case. Unlike other parts of the body, where the body typically goes numb, each lash will hurt worse than the last."

The man slid the soft-edged triangular board under his feet that supported the curve of them. "I'm going to give you five lashes on each foot. I want you to count each one. If you don't, I'll add another until you do, although I'll give you a fair chance between each. The faster you can count, the faster it'll be over with. And if you want to scream, feel free. No one can hear you, for the most part."

It was strange to have the whole ordeal laid out for him. His father had never done that, his beatings coming from rage. Nonetheless, nearly hyperventilating, Aaron tensed his whole body, waiting for the first blow.

When the cane landed, it felt like lightning had struck him. The pain flung outwards to every part of his body, and he did call out. Tears spilled. Slowly, the pain centralized into an intense burning sensation on his foot. When he caught his breath, he begged, "Please, stop! I won't run away again!"

"Count." Aaron took to sobbing, and Zaiden encouraged him with, "One."

His lips, his whole body trembling, he finally blurted out, "One."

The next one came down, and the other man had been right. It hurt worse. It took him several agonizing moments before he could breathe out, "Two."

The last three made him shout and sob openly, his counting voice eventual mere whispers. Then Zaiden switched to the other foot. By the end, he couldn't raise his voice anymore except to shout and cry, but his master nevertheless stopped, slipped out the board that had been supporting his feet, and unstrapped his legs. Then he came around to the other side of the bed and unstrapped his hands as well.

Aaron couldn't move. He wanted to curl up, shield himself from Zaiden's gaze, but his body was stiff and overworked from straining. He laid there, pathetic, sobbing, his body completely worn out. He couldn't stop his master from coming up on the bed, pulling up the covers, and lying against him, his head resting on his own arm. When Aaron saw his face close to his own, he did manage to turn his head away so that he looked at the wall and crossed his arms above his head to shield his face and hide.

His master said nothing, merely laid there, his arm over Aaron's lower back under the covers. Eventually, the boy's sobs dried up, although his humiliation kept his breathing harsh for a while longer. While the soles of his feet hurt, it gradually became more bearable, although he didn't want to consider walking for quite a while.

The minutes ticked by and Zaiden still stayed with him. Eventually, the boy turned his head and looked at the other man, wondering if he'd gone to sleep or something, although he would have been surprised if he had. When he met the man's blue eyes with his own, he didn't know what to feel or think. His master pulled Aaron's sweat dampened bangs of off his face, sweeping them behind his ear. The boy closed his eyes and let his mind go, even when the man kissed his shoulder.

Soon, sleep finally did claim him under Zaiden's warmth. He dreamed of his mother and father, together, fighting, and him, a small child, hiding, wishing he could please them and make them stop. When his father came up on him, death in his eyes and on his skin, Aaron awoke with an intake of breath, eyes wide in the dark room.

Now alone, it took him a few moments to realize where he was and why his body as a whole felt so horrible. With painstaking slowness, he turned himself onto his side.

Time had no meaning in the room. He didn't have a clue if it was night or day. He laid there, staring at nothingness. He knew where the light switch was, but he was quite sure he couldn't reach it, even if he'd wanted to attempt walking.

A short while later, the door opened and Corian stood in the doorway, looking at him. Although he was outlined in light and otherwise black, Aaron could tell it was him from his hair and build. He also seemed to be wearing the same clothes, so Aaron assumed it was still the same day. The man turned on the light, and with his eyes already rather adjusted from the outside light, it didn't make him flinch like before.

Corian brought the tray of food to his bed, laying it near his head. Then he gripped his shoulder and arm and helped him upright, "Here, sit up and eat something."

Aaron looked over the food. It looked good, but the smells made his stomach turn over.

"Try the soup. It'll get you warmed up."

Taking the handed soup, it did feel nice on his hands, but he still couldn't imagine eating it. The blonde man frowned down at him.

The boy tried to speak, but his voice cracked, his throat hurt, and his mouth was dry. He realized he was probably dehydrated. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight. Master Mihar told me to let you rest for a while before I brought you anything. Drink what you can. Just put everything on the floor when you're done. I'll leave the light on for you."

Then Corian was gone. Aaron sipped tentatively at the soup when it was lukewarm, and when his stomach didn't turn over and, in fact, his body actively hungered for it, he gave in and ate it.

The days went on like that for what seemed like an eternity. Within hours of waking up, he could walk again with a bit of limping. Gradually he regained his strength as he filled his belly and the pain receded. Zaiden never made another appearance. Nickolas never came to see him either. The only person he saw, and rarely at that, was Corian. He felt abandoned and so alone in the cold room, huddled in the blankets. He spent most of his time trying to keep his mind working, but nonetheless ended up staring at the walls when the light was on and staring at nothing when the light was off.

On the third day, the man once again forced him to bathe, but this time Corian had clothing for him to put on. They were a simple wrap around shirt and pants, but he was so grateful for some shred of dignity.

When Corian said it was the fourth day, he brought Aaron a book, saying it was from the master. The boy took it and examined the cover. Its title claimed it was a world atlas. Paging through, it was filled with beautiful pictures of places he'd never seen before, or had only seen in books, and he had to wonder if Zaiden was torturing him in a different way.

Aaron noticed a few of the pages had been marked with slips of paper, and examined each of those. They displayed ancient looking buildings and structures, a couple of them he remembered learning about in school.

His fingers leafed through it over and over again, while he read the descriptions. It was the most interesting thing he'd seen in days. He was examining some kind of temple when the door opened.

Zaiden stepped inside, smiling at him. Shocked to see him, the boy closed the book and clutched it to his chest, almost afraid the master would take it back and leave him alone with nothing again. Instead of going for the book, the man pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the collar around his neck.

"Your punishment is over. Come with me. I'll show you to your new room."

Aaron was dazed by the statement, well, had been dazed over the last few days. The beating and having three days to himself had left him feeling hallow. He didn't know what to do. His master took his hand and led him from the room. He clutched the book with his other hand to his chest. Zaiden led him up a set of stairs, back to the third floor Aaron hadn't seen for nearly five days.

They walked through large hallways and to the back wing. The room they entered took up the whole corner of the building. It was by far the largest and most extravagantly decorated room he'd ever been in. Since the room was so large, pillars were evenly spaced throughout to support the structure. On the walls and pillars were various seemingly non-functional hooks and loops which made him swallow. This obviously wasn't his room. He looked along the walls for a sign of what would be his door.

Zaiden probably noticed his search, since he said, "My room is your room."

"You mean, you..." Aaron looked to the canopy bed in the middle of the room that was, in itself, nearly as expansive as his old room. Granted it was enough to hold at least ten people with some wiggle room, but... "You want me to sleep with you?"

"Yes, I want you by my side whenever my commitments don't dictate otherwise. At those times, you'll stay with my servant, until I'm sure I can trust you. Or, if you prefer, you can be chained to my bed."

Aaron couldn't help the shaking of his head, but didn't say anything, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He didn't want to be left alone in here, not after the last few days. He would have taken just about anyone's company, even Zaiden's and Nickolas', more than willingly.

Zaiden cupped his cheek and gently kissed his lips for a brief moment. "Come, let's take a quick shower. There are things I want to discuss with you afterwards. You'll think better when you're refreshed."

The boy followed after his master, cowed, but starting to wonder what the days ahead would bring.

 

 

**Chapter 9: Resisting the Truth**

 

The bathroom resembled Nickolas', except it was larger in length, its ceiling steeping to around twice a normal height of one, the same as it did in the bedchamber. Instead of mirrors, the white textured walls covered the whole expanse, except for the lower eight feet, which were lined in delicately-carved, beige toned tiles set on their corners. Among them, he saw the increasingly familiar glint of metal. An extra tub churned inside with slowly moving water. Several thick nine-foot stone posts dotted the room, and were fashioned with yet more metal.

Drawn to the texture of the posts, Aaron walked a few steps away from his master to look at the carved detail of one. The images showed various people, other worldly beings, some coupled with beasts, all in compromising positions. He stood transfixed, wide-eyed, as he examined the carved marble.

When Zaiden walked up behind him shortly after, Aaron's mind thoroughly debauched by just one side of the rectangular post, the boy's cheeks flushed and he tried to walk away, back towards the entrance, but his master caught his hand again.

"My parents loved their ornaments. Young, old, male, female. It didn't matter to them, as long as the person opened themselves. In fact, I don't think their day would have been complete had they not seen a submissive, naked body chained up for their pleasure."

The man turned to him, the fingers of his free hand tracing lines along Aaron's body revealed by the deep 'V' of his shirt, making the boy tremble and close his eyes.

"Mind you, my parents were rarely cruel to them and only disciplined them when it was needed, but I always remember the shame in the people's eyes when I looked at them as a child."

By the end, Aaron found himself frowning at the other man's admission, as well as wondering where his parents were, if they were dead. The wonderment reminded him of his own parents, cramping his stomach. "Well, the people being chained up must not have bothered you much." At least, Aaron didn't think so, considering what the man was doing now...

Zaiden smiled. "It did bother me, probably because my parents kept them out of my sight when I was overly young. They bothered me a great deal. But who can argue with their parents and their ways? Eventually, if you must know, yes, I became accustomed to them, but it's not something I take pleasure in myself." The man caressed the boy's chin and kissed him there. "I prefer to know the person whom I have chained up."

As his body reacted in ways he wished it wouldn't have to Zaiden's touch and closeness, he tried to pull away, to stop the heat enveloping him. His master's hand merely moved to grip the back of his neck as he continued the slow, soft, wet kisses down the front of his neck. Confusing himself, Aaron's head tilted back slightly at the man's barest urging.

Then Zaiden pulled away abruptly, his hand leading the teenager to the shower. Aaron then swore the man was trying to torture him, the said torture coming in waves and just as painfully. He could barely catch his breath. More irritating was the fact that his master seemed completely unaltered by their contact.

Then the man removed his own tunic, muscles flexing. He was more muscled than Nickolas, but not overly husky. When his arms dropped, Aaron watched his long ebony hair tumbled down just past his nipples, obscuring them. His pants slipped off in one fluid motion. Zaiden was impressive in every way, which caused a blush-inducing embarrassment on Aaron's part, especially when he realized he hadn't been undressing himself, but merely watched with disturbing fascination. Why the male body captivated him so much, he didn't know.

After depositing his clothing in a nearby hamper, the man's blue eyes fixed on him and Aaron began to undress himself, slow and with shame. Zaiden watched him just as closely as he'd watched the man. He understood the idea of fairness, but wished his master would have just gone about his business. But then he realized that he was his master's 'business', someone bought and paid for.

Looking up through his lashes, he found himself asking, "How much did you pay for me?" It was a morbid question, but now he couldn't help asking. How much was a person worth? How much was he worth to Zaiden? How much had he been worth to his father?

A weak smile took over the man's face and irritated him, so he looked away and finished taking off his pants. "I have no legal responsibility to tell you until you turn 18, but if you really want to know..."

Did he want to know? He didn't know. Whatever the answer, it wouldn't have helped him at that point. Then again, how could it ever if the master had no intention of whoring him out? How could he ever pay back his debt? The realization left him weak.

Undressed, Aaron straightened and deposited his clothing in the hamper as well. "Nickolas told me that I can buy my freedom. But how can I if you won't let me?"

"You mean, by keeping you to myself?"

"Yes."

Zaiden puffed out his lower lip for a moment, but then he grinned and stepped into the shower. "There are ways. You can serve me. That in itself is worth something. Granted it's not as much as servicing a paying customer, but... We can come to an arrangement, if you wish it."

"If I wish it?"

"Consider Nickolas. I assure you he's accumulated more than enough to walk out the door, yet he stays. Why do you think that is?"

Because he's crazy, was the first notion to pop into Aaron's head.

His master seemed to recognize his non-acceptance when he added, "Maybe someday you'll understand."

Aaron finally followed after when Zaiden turned the water on. "Why does Nickolas hate you?"

Zaiden huffed. "Nickolas said you ask too many questions." The man dunked his head, arching his back. "As long as he lives here, I have power over him. I suppose he hates me for that."

"What kind of power?"

"You do ask too many questions," he chuckled out as he wiped water out of his eyes.

Color tinged the boy's cheeks as he yielded, walked to the falling water, and let the liquid cascade down his body. The heat felt wonderful after being chilled for four days by a heat-draining room and ice-cold hosings. He didn't want to leave. Ever.

After several minutes of turning his body this way and that, nearly letting himself drown, he realized Zaiden had taken to watching him. He stopped instantly and stared right back, trying to figure out what his master was thinking. He looked lower, unable to hold the gaze for too long, and caught sight of Zaiden's growing length now unable to hide behind loose clothing.

At the new stare, the blue eye-man turned away and walked back out of the shower, saying, "Use the soap. I'll be in the bedchamber."

Heat rushed to his own length against his will. He found he already hated this new game, but he had a feeling Zaiden wasn't enjoying it himself. Why didn't the man just take him? Was he really expecting him to ask for it? Beg for it?

Aaron wanted to stay in the shower, but did as the other man wished and scrubbed up, and then walked out, grabbed a towel, and dried off. Then he grabbed another robe and walked out into the bedchamber. Zaiden was laying on his bed on his back, his knees bent with his toes touching the floor, and his hands folded over his chest, staring up at the fabric above him, seemingly lost in thought.

When he was still several feet away, Zaiden shifted his head to look at him, his chin drawn down to his chest, and he smiled. Aaron paused. "Come here."

The words were soft and flowed more unwelcome heat. His feet shifted to his master's side and he sat on the edge of the bed, one knee drawn up over it allowing him to sit sideways, so he could easily look down at the other man. Zaiden's smile grew. Although the features of his face were ordinary, when he smiled, he was truly beautiful. Aaron felt a strange urge to sweep the hair off of his shoulder, just to feel it, to see if it was as soft as it looked, but didn't dare.

Looking down at him, Aaron had to wonder how he could be so easily manipulated. He hated that part of himself, the part that trusted with just the barest hint of kindness. It was a big reason why he kept distance between himself and others. He knew he couldn't trust people. He shouldn't now. But he found himself doing it anyway.

I'm such a fool...

"Touch yourself for me."

Aaron blinked at the words, caught completely off guard. He opened his mouth to protest as the other man sat up, shifted further onto the bed, and rested on his side. "Why would you want me to..."

It was a silly question so he gave up on it. He wasn't a child. He knew the answer. He himself knew he would have enjoyed watching another man do just that. He would have definitely watched Zaiden do it.

"I want to see you come," Zaiden said simply, as he met Aaron's gaze.

His robe already partially open from his propped up leg, it wouldn't have taken much to reveal himself. Just the thought of doing it made him harden.

"Nickolas told me what the three of you did the other night. I never forbid that specifically, but..." Zaiden smirked. "I'm sure you can imagine I find myself quite jealous."

What hadn't Nickolas told their master? Had he told Zaiden about Aaron's own advances on him? His stomach turned over at the thought. He never should have trusted the man.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't..." Didn't what? How could he deny he'd wanted it? He'd been there willingly, without protest. He'd even whipped his own erection out. How could he make excuses for that?

"Make it up to me then."

The blush was instant. He looked down and could see the evidence of his arousal poking out from his robe. His hand moved to it as it ached to be touched, nearly all of his focus on it. The rest of his focus stayed on Zaiden and his watchful eyes. With the barest hints of trembles, his hand pulled it up, bringing it into view for his master, and he bit his lip to stop from groaning. In fact, he held his breath completely, not wanting to hear its growing heaviness.

Aaron wanted to stop himself as much as he wanted to continue and that made it so he could only hold himself, gripping it, feeling it stiffen even further. Soon, he had no choice but to breathe, but he still couldn't caress the length.

"Come closer. Lay next to me."

Grateful for a distraction, even if it sent him in the wrong direction, the teenager let go of himself and shifted until he was almost close enough to be against the other man. He laid down on his back, his knees bent and together. Their faces near, he looked up into blue eyes, but then closed his eyes when the intimacy felt too great.

The man shifted, opened the boy's robe with one hand, and brought Aaron's hand between his own legs, encouraging him, as Zaiden laid caressing kisses over his mouth. As the younger man kissed back, he realized another reason why he'd willingly kept distance from others, and probably why his father had kept him hidden, had been rough with him.

He was so easy.

There had been times when the teenager had tried to turn his father's painful rutting into lovemaking, to be somehow blessed instead of cursed. That had only made the blonde man rougher. His father had just wanted to use him, had probably felt guilty for everything he did, just as the old man had professed after each time, despite the fact that the guilt had never stopped him from doing it again. Had it been his father's way of saving his son's soul? If it was, it hadn't worked, but it'd been a valiant effort.

When Aaron began to stroke himself, pulling at the foreskin to expose the head, Zaiden pulled away and watched his movements. His hand only picked up its pace as he lost himself in the sensations. Hands pushed at his knees and he widened them willingly. The man didn't touch him further, merely laid there, his breaths heavy, encouraging.

His knees opened wider as he began to pump the air with his hips. Small pants and moans flowed from his open mouth.

Quietly, his words strained, his master whispered, "Open your eyes."

With effort, he did, and met his blue eyes, losing himself in them. He was so lost in every sensation. When he came, he tried to keep their eyes locked, but by then end, he'd closed them, as his body bucked and heaved. When the touch finally became more painful than pleasurable, he gave one last squeeze and then released himself, the length wobbling in the air.

His eyes flashed open when he felt the other man's hot tongue at his chest, licking up the cum that had landed there. His body undulated, craving more, despite its exhaustion. As the licks continued to his belly, he found blood pooling back down to his groin.

After a kiss at his bellybutton, Zaiden murmured, "You needn't worry so much. You'll understand everything soon enough." His final lick was at the head of Aaron's hard length. The boy gasped, his back arching. "How long do you think it'll be before you beg for me, Aaron? Love me, even?"

The words brought some sensibility, but almost did make him beg. Yes, he could admit: he was easy. But that didn't mean he would ever love his master. However, even as he thought it, he knew he was as much a fool as he ever was. After all, at one time, when they had been boys, he did love the other man. How long would it take to bring those feelings back to the surface?

Aaron feared not long. And he scolded himself again for being a fool. And then lost himself in more of the man's kisses, tasting himself in them.

 

 

**Chapter 10: Spreading Insanity**

 

The two men laid together, Zaiden half draped over Aaron's mostly naked body. Being so close, the colors of their bodies contrasted, Zaiden's skin darker than his own. Aaron didn't know if the man was tanned or his skin was just naturally that way. He suspected it was the latter though, since the man didn't have obvious tan lines, and wondered again about Zaiden's parents.

What were they like? What did they look like? Did they speak like Zaiden? Did they smile like him?

The thoughts didn't get far though with basically no information to go on. He considered asking, but didn't want to chance ruining the quietness of the afternoon.

His master nuzzled his cheek and ear, his breathing soft and restful. The closeness eventually lulled the boy, giving him the urge to purr like the cats on his farm. It'd been so long since he'd been held, felt loved and at ease. The ease though was only achieved with bold efforts to banish agitated thoughts.

Eventually, as the afternoon crept into evening, he wondered why Zaiden was still with him, especially when the man finally went to sleep and Aaron couldn't resist the urge to touch his hair. It was as soft as it looked and had a depth his own straight hair couldn't achieve without serious manipulation.

The boy sighed and let his hand drop. Didn't the other man have things to do? People to order around? Whores to panhandle out?

Then again, Zaiden had people for that, some probably there since he was a child. And probably others from the time before his birth, like Nickolas perhaps.

Aaron tried to turn his head, wanting to see the other man's face, but couldn't manage it. With Zaiden sleeping now, immobile, the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped under his master began to erode on him. With that feeling, his thoughts began to deteriorate:

Hadn't Zaiden wanted to discuss something with him before? And what did that matter really? As if any talk between them, a master and a slave, could be a real discussion.

The boy shook his head. He was at this man's mercy. For now anyway. At least until he was willing to take on the full consequences of disobeying. He decided then, when his next runaway attempt happened, the ice-cold room and beating already becoming a distant memory, he would have to come up with a far better plan, like a disguise and no food beforehand.

Within minutes of the thought, he couldn't take it anymore. Unwilling to simply lay there like a pillow, hoping to wake his master up, the boy shifted completely, coming onto his side to look at the other man, making his master open his eyes.

But then the man smiled at him and made Aaron wonder if he'd ever again attempt escape. If the man kept up those smiles, he was afraid the urge would be no more than a passing thought and, eventually, an absent one.

But Aaron knew from experience that life never stayed this still for long. But as Zaiden leaned forward and kissed him softly, the boy wished again that it would, as he'd done when he was a child. And betraying every memory he had for the last seven years, he also suddenly wished his father had sold him long before, Zaiden apparently trying to purchase him for who knew how long.

"How long have you been trying to buy me?"

The man's smile deepened and he kissed him again. "Too long. I've always wanted you... But, through my parents, I began actively seeking a contract when I was fifteen. So around four years."

Four years? He would have been about thirteen. It wouldn't have been soon enough to avoid his father's touch. "You should have just bought me when my mom died." After he'd said it, he blushed at the words, mortified, not believing they'd come out of his lips.

His master caressed his cheek with the hand that had been at Aaron's hip. "If I could have, I would have given every coin and trinket we had to do just that."

The words deepened the blush. "How much -did- you pay for me?"

"You still want to know? Well, more than your father would have ever made in his lifetime." The smile faded and Aaron got the distinct impression he didn't want to know the answer. But when the boy still watched him, he said, "Five million. I would have paid double that had I thought he'd left you alone."

The words eroded every sensibility he had to remain submissive in face of such an absurd number. How could he ever be expected to pay back that much money? It wasn't even remotely logical or fair! How could they have haggled with his life like this?

He shoved himself away, sitting up, already frantic. "You had no right to do that!"

"Technically, I did," his master said, watching him carefully, his smile completely gone, sitting up as well.

"No, you didn't! I don't care what the law says. I mean, you could have waited a few months and we could have..." What was he saying? He never would have entered into a contract with this man! "You didn't have to do this! I would have been yours if I'd thought you still wanted me! My god, you're all insane!"

His heart pounded, but he couldn't draw enough air into his lungs to sustain it. His head swam as nausea threatened to make him heave.

What was he going to do? There was nothing he could do. He was so trapped and had no way out. The world, the people in it, the laws, this man's rules, Aaron's flimsy hold on life, all of it was too much.

Zaiden reached out to touch him, but the unwelcome affection pushed him over the edge. Aaron was off of the bed and running towards balcony, his robe fluttering off of his shoulders, no longer caring. It was all too much. Every minute of it. Not just the last few days, but every minute of his miserable, agony-filled life. He could see, feel freedom, mercy, so close, the warm breeze and sun on his skin.

A hard body grabbed him but Aaron's momentum took them to the floor. They landed hard, the air knocked out of him so that he couldn't scream out his mental and physical agony. Dazed, he barely saw the other man's manic face as he was flipped onto his back and straddled. A moment later, he shoved at the obstacle, and his arms were slammed down above his head.

Close to his face, Zaiden burst out, making the boy's ears pained but he couldn't shield them, "That money means nothing to me, but if you're dead, well, there isn't much point to any of this, is there?!"

"Just get off me, you bastard! You don't know what I'm doing to do!"

"There is no way I'm letting you jump off of some fucking balcony!"

Aaron fought with everything in him, but the other man was stronger and just as determined. Instead, except for uselessly kicking his legs, his only available outlet, teeth gritted, Aaron took to pounding the back of his own head against the floor, hoping to knock himself out or, even better, spill blood. Zaiden shifted a set of arms and held his hair down as well. Aaron didn't have the strength to rip out the large clump of his own hair.

Restrained and weakening, the boy finally took to sobbing openly. "Please... Just let me go!"

"Aaron..."

Something wet hit the boy's neck and slid over it, but he barely noticed. It took a few more for him to focus on the other man's face and to realize Zaiden was crying as well. The fight melted out of him. His master searched his face, so close to his own. His lips were pressed together, lips that were normally so soft and easy to smile.

When Aaron was sure the other man was going to lean down and kiss him, devour him, Zaiden whispered, "If you truly want to be free of me, give me until your eighteenth birthday. If you still want to leave by then, I'll let you go. But you won't be doing it off of a balcony."

The teenager's eyes squeezed shut, he tried to wrap his head around the words as much as his mind tried to reject them outright. Why would the man say such a thing? He couldn't mean it. He couldn't. Who would pay so much money for something then simply let it go? He didn't believe him. At all. He couldn't fall into this trap. He couldn't be that much of a fool.

"You're lying!"

"I'll write it into your contract."

"You can't just do that."

"Why not?"

Aaron blinked, knowing he really didn't know the legalities of such a contract. "Wouldn't you need my father's approval?"

"The contract's time period was left unspecified for arrangements such as this. Only an amount plus expenses were agreed upon. As such, I can add a time limit if I wish. Either way though, however much was paid, a contract such as this has a limit of 20 years, before a new one must be drawn up."

Twenty years? Knowing he could never work back what was paid, although Zaiden had promised him an 'arrangement' earlier, Aaron would be thirty-seven before he could walk away. The number and everything it entailed could barely be understood by his teenage mind. But then he remembered Nickolas and the man's age.

"Did Nickolas sign a new contract?"

"With his master, yes. My contract is with his master." Zaiden searched his face, probably looking for acceptance of his proposal. Whatever he found, he finally said, "We'll change your contract now, okay?"

The words, everything, brought tears back to his eyes as his face scrunched up. Zaiden did kiss him then. It was deep, wanting, and Aaron lost himself in it as tears dripped. He doubted again whether or not Zaiden would truly let him go. Maybe he would. Maybe money really did mean that little to him. Maybe Aaron meant more than money to him. Maybe Zaiden really did love him.

When the man pulled away, with the little breath he had, Aaron asked, "Why didn't you just wait until I turned eighteen? If you'd wanted me..."

"I was afraid..."

When the man didn't continue, the boy whispered, "Why would you be afraid of me?"

Zaiden smiled and kissed him. Then he laid lingering kisses on his cheek, saying, "I was afraid you wouldn't want me and that you would disappear forever. I was afraid of not having a chance."

"So you'd rather own me?"

"Yes." The kisses continued down his neck. "I'm sorry."

Aaron huffed a laugh but was so keyed up that it that turned into a panting moan when teeth scraped his neck. His body flamed up at the simple, hungry touch.

The boy realized then that Zaiden's robe was billowed out and his master's bare groin was pressed against his naked belly. He noticed it because of the growing hardness there that began pushing at his chest, making the older man groan with restrained breaths between the kisses. Aaron wanted to feel and hear more.

How could a body go from wanting death to wanting someone so badly? But his body did just that as he listened to his master and felt his weight and touch over his skin.

I must be as insane as Nickolas is, as everyone here is.

The notion no longer surprised him. In fact, it bothered him all too little as his body arched as much as it could when the man nipped at his collarbone. Zaiden rocked his hips back, rubbing his length against Aaron's stomach, and in turn, the boy's hardness at the crack of his backside.

Zaiden's blue eyes closed for a moment, but then his master breathed out, "Do you want me?"

His own hips beginning to buck, the boy groaned at the words, but then said, "Yes, I want you. So much."

At the words, having remarkable control, Zaiden stood up abruptly, took his hand, pulling him up, and they walked back to the bed some distance away. His master bent down, opened a drawer beneath the bed, and pulled out a vial. Willingly, Aaron shrugged off his robe, laid down on his back towards the middle, his knees bent, waiting with his length twitching its anticipation. He somehow managed to not stroke it.

The blue-eyed man came up on the bed, kneeling next to him. His fingers caught up some of the oil and began massaging it onto Aaron's length, making his breath catch before his hips began to pump at the attention. Did Zaiden mean to make him come first, he didn't know, but quickly couldn't manage to care either way. The man bent down and kissed him as he straddled his stomach once again, letting go of his erection. His master moaned into his mouth as his arm moved rhythmically out of Aaron's line of sight.

Confusion began to take over his desire drenched mind. This wasn't how sex normally went, never mind the loving nature of it. Zaiden pulling away from his mouth to straighten his back, Aaron gasped when hot tightness enveloped the tip of him. His master hissed, pulled up slightly, and then pushed back down.

The boy had never been inside of another person before, not like this. He could barely believe it was happening, that Zaiden wanted it this way. Even with the disbelief, he gripped the older man's hips and pushed up with his heels, making his master gasp when more shoved into him. Aaron instantly loved the sound. With a few more near desperate thrusts, he was fully implanted into his master's body.

Moaning, Zaiden leaned back down and kissed him, licked him, bit at his jaw. He held Aaron's body down with the weight of his own, grinding his hips slightly at the hardness inside of him. Finally, Aaron grabbed the older man's face, fingers twining into his hair, and pulled him back into a kiss.

When Zaiden began to grind with more enthusiasm, the older man straightened, sitting up, and they soon found a rhythm that had them both panting and moaning. Sweat gleamed on their skin. Wet slaps echoed in their ears. Instead of weakening, Aaron's thrusts only became harsher, more urgent, until Zaiden was trembling and moaning with each one as he tried to keep his hips in the air and still, letting the younger man thrust into him from below.

Finally, his master took to stroking himself with fast, fluid pumps. The man tilted his head back and began to moan incoherently as the pumps quickly became erratic. Seeing that his master was so close drove Aaron over the edge. With a few more uneven bucks, he came deeply inside of the man. He barely felt the wetness hitting his chest, his master's cum.

Spent, Zaiden fell down on his hands, placing them above Aaron's shoulders. Ebony hair fluttered over the boy's face from the man's trembling breaths, tickling him. Aaron reached up and twined his hands through it, restraining it, and couldn't help his smile.

Zaiden opened his eyes and, when he saw his smile, smiled down at him, sighing out, "I haven't seen you smile in years."

The words made Aaron wish he could stop his own smile, but found he couldn't. His master shifted slightly, reminding him he was still inside of his body, as if he could truly forget.

A strong hand lifted and stroked the boy's cheek. "I do love you. I hope you believe that."

Aaron's smile faded. "I..." The teenager suddenly felt more lost than he ever had because so much of him believed the other man, even though he knew he shouldn't have.

"Give me time to prove it to you. Give us time."

Aaron pressed his lips together, his grip in the man's hair tightening. Then he pulled him down, kissing him, until his breaths were harsh again and he began pumping his re-stiffening length into the willing body. The man was so hot and slippery that it didn't take long to feel an orgasm build up. But Zaiden pulled away, shifted off of him, hissing, leaving Aaron's erection chilled, and laid down on his back. His master's hand instantly worked on re-hardening his own length as his legs spread.

After watching the act for a few moments, the teenager rolled over, pushed himself up onto his knees, and shifted to Zaiden's side, encouraging him to shift onto his own side. Then he spooned the man from behind and easily pushed into his hole. They moaned in unison.

This time, Aaron took his time, reaching around and stroking his master's length as he worked his own hips. The buildup was slow, but soon his master's panting breaths, the small trembles of his body, put Aaron over the edge, and he called out his master's name, pressing against him, to be sure Zaiden took every drop inside of himself, his master's already spent semen pressing between their bodies. Zaiden's hand closed over his stilled one and they pumped together until his master spent himself on the bedsheets.

Aaron held the man, softening inside of him, feeling the man soften in his grip. He pressed his forehead against the back of his neck and breathed in the salty, sweet scent of him.

A bare whisper, the teenager said, "I did love you back then. I... I missed you, but... So many things happened. So many things I want to just forget about, that I wish hadn't happened. But I..."

But he loved Zaiden. Whether or not this man was still the same person as the child he'd known, Aaron saw enough of that boy to love this man, despite the grotesque circumstances that had brought them together again.

Aaron held the man tighter. The length twitched in his hand and he stroked it, Zaiden's moan instant. It got him hardening again. And smiling, despite himself. He couldn't stop himself from asking, "Was I your first?"

The man huffed with a pant. "No." That didn't surprise Aaron, although some part of him wished it'd been otherwise. Despite the pickup of breaths, Zaiden said, "I wanted to suggest something to you earlier but... I'm going to take a trip soon... I wondered if you wanted to come with me. Did you see the pages I marked in the book?"

Aaron's caresses had already stopped. "Yes?"

"I want to take you to those places. My family and I used to vacation in that country, where my mother was born... Nickolas told me you said you've never traveled."

The boy couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd had the notion that he wouldn't be leaving Zaiden's home for years, or months, if his master held true to his word. "No, no I haven't, not further than the city."

"Would you like to accompany me then?"

When Aaron didn't reply, Zaiden shifted onto his back, the boy's length leaving him, and turned his head to look at him. The younger man swallowed and when he realized Zaiden was expecting an answer, he said with honesty, "Yes, I would love to."

 

 

**Chapter 11: Swimming in Circles**

 

When Zaiden separated himself from their tangle of limbs, Aaron carefully watched the other man as his master picked up a phone on the table some distance away. He couldn't hear the words spoken, but hung on the man's every gesture and expression.

Eventually, Zaiden returned to the bed, picked up Aaron's robe, and handed it to him. The man straightened his own, looking to the balcony and the sun that still warmed the sky. Minutes later, Corian entered with a thin collection of elongated papers in his hand. Their master took the papers and ushered Aaron to the table. Corian stayed by the bed, standing with his arms crossed, a slight scowl on his face bringing instinctual fear to Aaron, the boy already apprehensive with the realization of what was happening. Zaiden grabbed a pen from a nearby desk, sat down next to him, and thumbed through the pages.

There were so many words on each piece of paper, so many terms and conditions. It would have taken him a good hour or two to read through everything and probably a lot longer to understand it all. His life, or at least 20 years or until he could pay off his debt, all if it was contained in black small computer-printed text.

"Are all contracts so long?"

"This one is rather standard as contracts go, since your father had no real stipulations. I suppose he thought I couldn't do any worse for you than he had."

The words nauseated the boy and made him detest his father all over again, because he saw the truth in them.

Finally, stopping on a page, Zaiden came to a few blank lines that had been purposely placed there amongst the paragraphs. In it, Zaiden wrote: Upon the day the named indentured servant reaches their eighteenth birthday, the named indentured servant shall have the option to void this contract and all that it entails.

When done, the man straightened his back and smiled at him. "There. Corian will witness it for us."

Aaron looked to the blonde man who walked up to them. "He can do that?"

"Yes. He's merely an employee and under no contract himself."

The teenager couldn't stop his sudden jealousy over the freedom Corian had. And he wondered why the blonde man chose to be in Zaiden's home. If it was similar to the reasons Aaron himself was tempted to remain... Aaron wished he could shake the idea off quickly, but remembered then the other man's scowl and his present one that Zaiden didn't pay any mind to.

Forcing himself to look away, Aaron stared down at the clean hand-written words and suddenly wondered what exactly they meant. He had nothing to his name, and by the time of his eighteenth birthday, there was a good chance he'd have nowhere to go if his father didn't take him back in. What would he do with himself? Where would he go? He would be an adult and completely on his own. The whole idea mollified him to the point that he didn't know for sure what he wanted.

Still dazed, when Corian left after signing the paperwork on the last page to formally witness the change, Zaiden insisted on disrobing Aaron again and laid him back down on the bed so that the older man could run his fingers and mouth over the length of his body. It was as if his master couldn't get enough of his flesh, but Aaron also knew the restraint Zaiden could have. Quickly, knowing the man's affections could end just as quickly, the boy found himself preferring it this way, adoring the touches and kisses as he arched into them.

The older man seemingly lost in his own motions, Zaiden seemed to have no more thoughts on Aaron's ill-conceived attempt on his own life, which left the boy wondering if he would have actually jumped. Surely he would have.

Yes, he would have.

So why did Zaiden now seem so unconcerned with it? Was Zaiden that confident of his control? How could he be considering Aaron's actions over the last few days? Maybe Zaiden was just as trusting as he was, but Aaron doubted it. Surely it was just the man's ego. Or perhaps his love. Or perhaps just plain denial.

In the late evening, they took their meal on the bed. Zaiden insisted on feeding him like a pet, which rattled Aaron's mind. He resisted at first but relented since the older man seemed to take so much pleasure in it.

By the end of the meal, Aaron eating more than his share, the boy had to wonder if the other man was trying to fatten him up. Then again, after days of filling food, his master probably was. How long would it take him to bulk up in undesirable ways? Well, considering the toned muscle of his master, he doubted Zaiden would let him get to that point.

Aaron laid back on a pillow, stuffed and sedated. He watched the other man lay the dishes on the floor and then shift over the boy and rest on his side, facing him, his head propped up with a bent arm. Finally, their positioning now familiar, Aaron asked the question that had been troubling him, although he was afraid he already knew the answer, namely Nickolas and his rambling mouth and the night and morning they'd had together.

"Why did you..." The boy pressed his lips together, trying to figure out how to say it without being obvious and obscene. Then again, how could he not be? "Why did you let me inside of you? I didn't think..."

His master smiled. "You mean, why did I want you inside of me?"

The smile and words tied Aaron's stomach in knots. He swallowed, but couldn't manage the affirmation despite Zaiden's assured poise.

The man's smile increased to show teeth. "Do you think I must dominate you, have you at my feet every minute of the day, to be your master?" His fingers played over the teenager's chest and his eyes watched to motions. Aaron couldn't take his eyes off of the older man's face. "I wanted you in me because I enjoy the feeling of it, of you in me. I enjoy being taken, just as you enjoy taking me. However, that doesn't make me any less your master."

The final words betrayed what had happened and what was said between them that day. Nonetheless, the words also pooled blood in the teenager's groin, despite his mind's revolt.

Aaron didn't want the other man to say such a thing, or worse, believe it, nor did he want to be possessed by yet another person, but he couldn't stop his body from wanting it. His body then proved that fact, and he suddenly wished he'd kept his robe on. Not that the thin cloth would have done much to hide his hardening length that the older man took to watching. When Aaron tried to shield himself, Zaiden merely batted his hands away. The action only made him harder.

Then his master began stroking him, milking him. It felt too good. Aaron lost his shame and lived in the moment. His hands gripped the soft sheets underneath him. His harsh breaths and pumping hips seemed like they belonged to someone else, at least the back of his mind wished they did.

The man didn't let him last long. Aaron came, trying to not call out as the other man kissed him deeply. Instead, he clung to his master and took out the orgasm with his fingers digging into Zaiden's back.

Spent, when Aaron managed to loosen his grip, Zaiden pulled away, looking down at him, and then kissed him again with slow caresses while his hand smoothed the cum into Aaron's stomach. When he pulled away again, he grinned at the younger man. "How could I not want you in me?"

Drowsy, Aaron felt stupid grinning back, but he couldn't help it. This man was going to feed and milk him until he didn't even know his own name, let alone where he'd come from, his past draining from his mind. It shouldn't have been so easy to forget everything, but then again, maybe his ease was just his drifting, sleep-chased mind.

When he awoke the next morning, Zaiden was already showered and picking out something to wear. His wet hair gleamed over his strong, naked body and Aaron couldn't help but admire the sight.

When he sat up, his master turned his head, probably hearing the rustling of sheets, and smiled. "Come here." Rubbing at his eyes a bit, the younger man stood up and then walked up to him as the man walked to the left and opened up another closet. "As much as I'd like to keep you naked, these are the clothes that were made for you."

Inside was an array of embellished cloth and accessories. Although the dominant color was a deep blue, it was also mixed with yellows and greens. On a shelf laid a small collection of makeup. The lip color was deep red. Aaron blinked his confusion at it. Before, he'd thought the color meant that a person was atop the food chain, but now he had to wonder if it meant that a person was taken.

A similar question he'd considered before with Nickolas, he now asked his master: "Is blue your favorite color?"

Zaiden turned his head to look at him as he slipped on a pair of black pants. "Yes, actually it is. It reminds me of my father." His lips quirked up. "He's the one who gave me my blue eyes."

"Then why do you wear black instead of blue?"

"Because..." His smile lost some of its momentum. "Because I mourn them."

"Your parents?"

"Yes."

"They're... I-I'm sorry."

The smile picked back up a bit and the man grabbed a shirt. "Don't apologize. Their passing is obviously not your fault. I continue to mourn them out of respect and love. "

When the man said no more, Aaron couldn't find the will to investigate further. Instead, he feathered through the fine cloth before him, and distracted himself by wondering how much the clothing had cost. Too much, he assumed. The closet's contents probably could have fed and clothed a family for a year and then some.

It amazed him that two families could be so different. His father had probably sold him because he couldn't support his drunkenness. Zaiden's family, or what was left of it, apparently had more money than his master knew what to do with.

And the money Zaiden had spent on Aaron, had given to a man to support his drug habit, could have been so much better spent. Aaron didn't deserve this.

Any of it, for that matter.

The ideas tightened his throat, and he tried to shake the thoughts off. For the time being, he knew he had little choice but to take what life gave him. And he also knew that was the biggest and longest-lived lie he'd ever told himself.

"Get cleaned up and dressed, would you? Unfortunately there are matters I must take care of this morning, things I pushed aside so that we could spend yesterday together. This afternoon though, we have an appointment to keep."

"Appointment?"

"No need to worry about it. I'll come for you when it's time."

The words made the boy worry even more, but the man said no more. For nearly a minute Aaron stood, staring, unwilling to move, wishing the man would elaborate, but Zaiden paid him no mind. Finally, Aaron did walk away when the stare got him nowhere, to the bathroom to take care of his bodily functions and to shower. When he came back into the bed chamber, Zaiden was seated on the bed.

His master gestured to the large table set up with food and said, "Eat and get dressed afterwards."

Remembering the breakfast he'd eaten in Nickolas' presence, the food didn't look all that appetizing, especially knowing there was an "appointment" in his future which reminded him of what Zaiden had told him after he'd drugged him.

Eventually though, as he watched Zaiden out of the corner of his eye, dumbstruck by the man's quiet patience and persistence for Aaron to do as he was told, the nibbles turned into bites and he ate his fill.

As he did, he wondered once again what would happen if he tried to resist, although his prior beating gave him some clues. In the end, that was all the urge was: a thought. Just as he enjoyed the quiet days with his father, he didn't want to ruin the moment, not without good reason.

Then he slipped his robe off as he walked to the closet and hung it on a hook on the inside of the door. He chose something that seemed simple enough with its minimal embroidery. As he dressed, the blue-eyed man walked up to him and leaned against one of the opened doors, pressing it firmly against the wall.

"I really did get the better end of the bargain," the man seemed to say more to himself than to Aaron.

The boy looked at him and didn't know what to say. He knew what he should have said, but he was no longer sure what exactly he wanted while standing in front of a man who'd shown him more uncouth kindness and vulgarity than any other person ever had. His father had been similarly vulgar, but the man had also been predictable. Then again, he figured, with time, his master's actions would most likely become predictable as well, although he hoped he wouldn't be around long enough for them to be. Or did he?

Confused beyond all hope, Aaron concentrated on getting dressed and then looked back at the other man. What was Zaiden to him? His Master and owner? A friend? His lover? More important, what was he to his master? After all, that unfortunately dictated Aaron's station in life.

A small smile gracing his face, Zaiden walked away to the door and Aaron followed, as the man talked over his shoulder. "Corian will be attending me this morning. But I'll leave you with Gwyneth. She's young, but surely you can relate to her more than Nickolas. She's been here for years, indentured far earlier than most. Perhaps she can enlighten you as to what life is like here."

"Zaiden-"

"You will call me Master outside of this room," the man said, his voice soft but firm.

Aaron pressed his lips together, but then said, "Master..." His voice trailed off as he realized the insecurity of what he wanted to ask: When would the man be back for him? "Never mind."

Zaiden slowed down and Aaron almost overtook him before he caught himself. "Make the best with what you have. And then make it better." He knocked on the door they stood in front of. A moment later, a small voice told them to enter. The blue-eyed man opened the door and ushered Aaron inside. "I leave him in your care for the morning."

Gwyneth smiled and bowed. "Of course. I'll take good care of him."

When the door closed, she straightened and swept her hair behind her back. The white silk robe she wore revealed a rosy tip of her cleavage, and Aaron looked away, blushing. But then he looked back when he heard another voice from behind the divider that hid the bed situated along the far wall of the large room. The other voice was female as well.

The other teenager peeked her head around the transparent divider and grinned at him, her expression telling Aaron that she knew exactly who he was, before she slipped by, a sheet wrapped precariously around her, and retreated into a room like Aaron's in Nickolas' room.

"I'm training her," Gwyneth said, matter of fact, watching after her, but then grinned herself. "She's rather shy, but I'm hoping to remedy her of that soon." When the door closed, she turned her attention back onto the boy. "Have you eaten?"

He nodded and looked away again when he realized she still hadn't straightened out her robe. Perhaps she didn't notice her state. Or perhaps she simply didn't care.

"Well, let's take a walk then. I'm sure you could appreciate one after the last few days."

The offer made his stomach swim with anticipation. "Yes, I would like that."

"Great. Let me get dressed then."

The girl had no shame as she slipped off her robe, draping it over a chair, and then walked to her closet. Aaron tried to keep his gaze away, but with her back turned, he couldn't help but look. After all, he'd never seen a woman in such a state of undress, and she was shaped beautifully, just plump enough to amplify her curves. Looking at her, he could fully appreciate the difference between a man and a woman.

Gwyneth selected a purple dress that fit her as tightly as the other one he'd seen her wear, and he found himself grateful to be male. There was no way she could have run in the dress. Then again, maybe she had no intention of running so it didn't matter to her.

She spent the morning making small talk, walking him around, showing him rooms that were unoccupied and they were allowed to go into, rooms mostly on the bottom floor. Some, however, were on the top floor, such as a library larger than the public one he'd been to. She also showed him the gym with exercise equipment on the second floor and he understood how Zaiden managed to gain the muscle he had. A couple of people were taking advantage of the area.

"You'll be spending lots of time in here." She pointed to a man sitting on a chair whose head bopped to something he listened to through headphones. "That's Matthew. He'll assist you if you need it. Just tap him on the shoulder or throw something at him, if you need him."

Eventually they entered the garden. The girl walked with him, letting him lead the way. He took a different path than he had the first day he'd been there, and ended up at a pool with large orange and white fish swimming inside. She smiled down at them, her hands on her knees as she crouched down slightly.

"When I first came here, most of them were just babies, no bigger than my thumb. They've gotten so big, you could almost eat them." She looked up at him with a sly grin. "But don't. They're worth more to the master than most of us here."

The girl sat down on the stone wall that laced part of the edge, sweeping her long hair over her shoulder so that she didn't sit on it. She watched them swim around and around, although some poked their heads up at her, probably anticipating a treat. Aaron watched her instead as her face grew tense.

"You have to wonder if they're insane, swimming around like that, day after day. Year after year."

Aaron watched them then, but shook his head. "Maybe, but I doubt fish think that much."

"Maybe. Or maybe their instincts are merely so strong that they can't stop." The girl seemed to catch what she was saying when she looked up at Aaron suddenly. Her lips couldn't seem to decide whether to grin or frown. "I'm sure you're right. Why would a fish need to think, after all?"

It was then that Aaron caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Gwyneth turned her head towards it and said, the smile clear in her voice, "Are you taking him away from me?"

Zaiden smiled at them both. "Yes, we're going to grab a quick lunch, before we head over there."

"Over where?" Aaron asked.

Instead of answering him, the man said, "Come."

Irritation boiling up in him, Aaron said thank you and goodbye to the girl, and then followed his master. He almost thought that he was going to have to blindly follow again, but then Zaiden suddenly spoke, his voice tinged with anger:

"Since you seem to cherish your father's life, we're going to have to get rid of your scars, because whenever I look at them, I want to tear his flesh off of his bones and my restraint diminishes a little more."

The words chilled the boy completely because he believed every one of them.

 

 

**Chapter 12: Renewing the Body**

 

So many eyes burned his skin and made Aaron's shifting glances tense. Dressed in expensive clothing, lacking makeup that declared him a whore, the boy knew he fit in on the outside. But with every whisper heard over the clanks of plates and silverware, with every hungry, bold look, he knew he was in no way on their level on the inside.

Zaiden had spoken little since they'd arrived, his own eyes occasionally shifting to the people around them. Perhaps the man was finally feeling the stares and didn't like it. That would have given Aaron some kind of perverse pleasure if he hadn't also been feeling the same trepidation, especially with the realization that Zaiden couldn't protect him.

Was this not something Zaiden normally did with his slaves? Did masters and their slaves not normally sit at the same table as equals?

His father had never taken him to expensive restaurants, barely taken him anywhere during the recent years, after people's stares had become too obvious. So he didn't know the etiquette of such things.

Then again, as color finally rose to Zaiden's cheeks, making the boy's heart tremble as he watched, unbelieving, as the ruddiness tainted his master, perhaps they were looking at Zaiden as much as they were looking at Aaron. Perhaps the stares had nothing at all to do with Aaron, at least not directly.

He had no real understanding of any of it. And he didn't dare open his mouth to find out the answers.

Zaiden paid for the food as soon as the waiter brought the check, leaving a healthy amount of cash on the table. He stood and walked away almost as much as he fled. Aaron followed behind him, keeping up only because he was a bit taller than the other man.

Outside on the street waiting for the car, neither of them said a word. Aaron had to use every restraint he had to keep it that way.

This man before him was nothing like his restrained, calculated, smiling master. This man seemed on the slippery edge of dire misery.

The bustling, noisy crowd barely made itself known, especially as Aaron sat down in the car, his master following behind and sitting next to him. He ignored the driver looking at them and instead put all of his focus into trying to read Zaiden's mind.

"Take us to the doctor's home," Zaiden stated, his voice surprisingly even, maybe made possible from a glee of getting the hell out of there. Aaron couldn't blame him in the least.

A minute later, as they traveled between buildings that continuously got smaller and more normal, at least to Aaron's eyes, and the crowds got smaller, more reserved, Aaron said quietly, trying to not be heard by the driver, "Are you all right?"

Zaiden turned his head at the words and blinked at them, as if he didn't understand them. A frown darkened his face before he looked forward again. Aaron almost thought that was going to be the end of it, but then he felt a hand wash over his leg and to his groin. A gasp jumped from his throat from the tight, seeking grip.

His master then turned his whole body and lifted Aaron's shirt and lowered his pants, revealing the hardening length to the cool air in the car. Had the boy not felt the man's hot breath on him a moment later, he might have shrunk up.

Zaiden's hotter mouth devoured his tip, sucking as if they were in bed and not driving in the back of a car down the street with a driver hearing every wet and gasping sound and witnessing the contortions of Aaron's face in the rearview mirror.

Aaron already had a distinct dislike for the unnamed driver, developed days before, but that didn't stop him from meeting the man's eyes unwillingly as the driver tried to watch both him and the road. He was sure that the man would have whipped his own cock out if the circumstances had been different. His cock pressed against the back of his master's mouth, down his throat, and detached his gaze from the driver's as his head rolled back.

The mouth sucked on him hungrily as if Zaiden hadn't just eaten. How the man didn't vomit, Aaron had no clue, and quite frankly couldn't care much.

Too soon, not soon enough, he gripped the man's soft, loosened hair and came deep into his throat. He barely remembered loosening that tight grip in face of Zaiden's deep moan.

When he gained a bit of focus, he realized the car had stopped. Feeling like the back of his head was bolted to the seat, it took considerable effort to lift his head up as Zaiden quickly tucked him back inside and exited the car.

The driver was still looking at him, the teenager realized, the man's eyes almost completely black with lust. Aaron jerked his gaze away and worked himself out of the car, fighting drowsiness and a surging adrenaline at the realization of what they'd just done.

Apparently feeling no such hardship, Zaiden retied his hair and led the way. The house they walked up to looked like just that: a normal house among hundreds of others. There was no grandness about it, nothing that would have differentiated it from any other house in the area except for a sign by the door that said, 'Dr. Philip Rover, M.D.'

How could a simple doctor do what the other doctors couldn't? No doctors had been able to stop the scarring and disfigurement, especially when he usually didn't come in until there was a broken bone, or an infection eating at his body, if he came in at all.

The man who greeted them was as unnoticeable as the dwelling. He was shorter than either of them. His shaggy brown curly hair seemed to have the sole goal of getting into his eyes. The man was also younger than Aaron would have expected, surely only in his early 20's. He didn't seem old enough to be a doctor, let alone have an ordinary degree.

"Welcome, Mr. Mihar," the man said with a genuine smile that help put Aaron somewhat at ease, even after what had just happened in the car. The doctor shifted to the side and let both men in. "I've cleared my week for you, since what you've described, well, I don't think I'll be wanting to do much after."

Aaron heard his Master's smile as the man walked in front of him, saying, "And I'll pay you accordingly, of course. And, of course, if it can't be done in one session, we can schedule another appointment."

"That shouldn't be necessary. I'm sure your boy wants to be rid of them as much as you, so why prolong it?"

The words, "your boy," made Aaron involuntarily tense. It was one thing to fornicate with his own father and refuse to tell the absolute truth to the doctors, both because of fear and humiliation. It was quite another to be an owned whore-slave with no real say in life and the doctor knowing that fact even before they entered the door. The only thing that kept his feet and mind grounded was the fact that the doctor honestly didn't seem to care.

The man led them upstairs to a pleasantly decorated room. It reminded him of his mother, and he had to wonder if the doctor was married.

Catching Aaron touching a carved statue of a walking child on a dresser, Phillip said, smiling, "If you're wondering, yes, my wife decorated the house. The only room I'm allowed to myself is the basement itself. She loves traveling and picks up all kinds of sculptures and artwork along the way."

Unthinkingly, Aaron replied, "My mom was the same, but she never traveled much. At least not after I was born. Most of the artwork we have in our house she painted herself."

Realizing what he'd said and how it must have sounded coming from a sex-slave, he looked between them and then away, and clutched his hands to himself, trying to make himself unnoticeable, although it was obviously too late for that. Soon, when Zaiden's stare became unbearable, he steeled himself and met the man's eyes. Aaron didn't know exactly what he saw there, probably because it was too many emotions to name.

A long moment after their eyes met, Zaiden looked away and smiled at Phillip. "I leave him in your hands."

Why was his master always leaving him with others?

The thought had formed before he could stop it and left his stomach uneasy at the clinginess of it.

Yes, Zaiden had professed love. Yes, some part of him loved the man in return. But he couldn't let that dictate their relationship. He couldn't let himself get attached. After all, even some part of his drunken father had loved him, someone with a blood tie. But in the end, the teenage had been abandoned for money. Even his mother had left him, however unwillingly.

No, he couldn't let it happen all over again. He just couldn't and keep himself whole. He couldn't be abandoned again when Zaiden grew tired of him or when something or someone else became more important to him.

In the end, things ended, no matter what a person did to stop it. The realization hallowed him before it fueled his determination to close his heart.

By then, Zaiden had already left him alone with the doctor. Phillip came up to him, touching his arm lightly, handing him a set of new clothes. "You can change behind the curtain."

Aaron took the offering after a moment's hesitation and changed obediently. When he came back around, Phillip was checking his phone. The man looked back up with a smile and slipped the phone into his pocket.

"Lay down on the bed. You can keep those clothes on. I won't need to see the damage to heal it."

The boy was ushered to the bed, his confusion obvious on his face. Phillip smiled at it, brushing his own bangs off of his face before he sat down on the side of the bed after Aaron.

Leaning over to dig through a drawer next to the bed, the doctor added, "Just relax. This won't hurt at all." He sat back up, cradling a small white orb in his hand, and brushed unruly bangs away again. When Aaron saw the ball, he realized it was like the ones in Nickolas' dagger, except this one was larger and never could have been used as a functional ornament. "If I was going lower than the surface, it might hurt, depending on the type of injury, but since the damage is mostly cosmetic, there's no need to worry. Some of the people who come here... Quite frankly, their cases are much worse than yours and must be taken care of with multiple sessions."

Worse than his? He couldn't imagine.

Instead of voicing his doubt, he voiced another doubt with, "Are you really a doctor? I've been to doctors often enough. It isn't done this way."

"I've been 'professionally' trained and do hold a degree, if that's what you're asking. But sometimes nature is much better than the barbaric practices we can come up with. This material holds a power that can do things we can't. I mean, we do have to lend it energy of our own, but with us and our will, it can do remarkable things."

"If that's true, then why would anyone ever do it the normal way?"

"Because it's rare and therefore expensive. And people always think they can do better. And honestly, what makes more money? A half an hour session where everything is taken care of, or endless surgeries, drugs, and rehabilitation?"

"But... it can't be just about money."

"Well, it also takes a toll on the user, like I've said. Not everyone wants to be put out of commission for a week, even if the money is good." Phillip smiled again and brushed Aaron's long bangs back behind an ear, saying, "Close your eyes and think about something nice. When this is over, you'll be a new man."

The idea brought out an excepted fear. His scars had become so much a part of him. They showed the world what had happened to him, proved his mistreatment, even if his mouth couldn't voice it. They were his never ending protest. And when they were gone, well, he'd have to do his own protesting. Did he have the strength for it? Would anyone even believe him?

"Shhh, it's okay. It'll be all right, I promise."

Aaron shook his head and looked away from the man's warm eyes. Phillip didn't understand. How could he?

Then again, maybe he did. Aaron knew about the doctor's past even less than he knew of Zaiden's, which wasn't much at all. Maybe his medical training included the psychology of fucked-up people.

Whatever the case, soon enough, the boy found the will to close his eyes. Almost immediately, he felt the warmth that was so similar to the one he felt when Nickolas had healed him. This time though, the pleasurable sensation didn't stop and moved to every inch of his skin and every cell in it, seeking out damage and stroking it away. With it went pains he didn't even realize he'd had. He tried his best to not moan, but it escaped anyway, as well as another. He felt himself harden and loved the caressing feel of his pants against it.

Their moans and groans caressing his ears, when he spent himself without even needing to touch himself, the sensation still didn't stop. It never let him down.

An orgasm that never ended... If he'd had a thought in his head, he would have been so glad Zaiden had left the room. He didn't know how long Phillip kept him in that state, but by the end, he was a sweat covered, heat-blushed mess. And as the doctor had said, he knew for sure he'd never, ever be the same again.

A few minutes later, Phillip lying next to him, although the man's feet were by his head, the doctor's breath just as ragged as Aaron's, the teenager barely got out, "I can't imagine that ever feeling bad. Although I can see it driving a person insane."

Phillip laughed with a sudden huff. "I'm sure you feel a hell of a lot better than I do." Aaron lifted his head, trying to look at the other man. The doctor swung his hand up for a brief moment, the only action he seemed capable of making outside of breathing and speaking. "That's not a request for payback. I assure you Mr. Mihar is overly generous."

Overly generous? With numbers rolling through the boy's head, he could guess at that generosity and reaffirmed himself that he'd never be able to pay the debt off he owed his master.

"There's a shower to the right. You're welcome to get cleaned up and change. I'm just going to lay here for a while."

By the time Aaron stood up and grabbed his clothes from behind the curtain, the doctor was already asleep. He only watched him for a moment, wondering why the man did what he did. Surely it wasn't just for the money. Then he did as suggested and showered himself, refusing to look down at his body, not ready to see it, and changed back into his clothes. When he came out, Phillip was still laying there. Aaron watched him for another moment, making sure he was still breathing, and then left the room and headed back downstairs.

Zaiden was sitting against the arm of the couch, his shoeless legs bent and slightly spread with his hands on his knees. The man eyed him, not saying anything. But he knew Zaiden really couldn't tell if it'd worked.

While Aaron had had minimal scarring on the visible parts of his body when he wore clothing, his father had been smart enough to keep most of the damage hidden. Without stripping, no one would have known the true extent.

Wanting to break the moment without stripping, Aaron blurted out, "Don't ever make me do that again."

His master swung his feet off of the couch and sat up, frowning. "Why? I heard you..."

The words brought color to Aaron's cheeks and the boy looked away.

Why? Good question. Because he knew then that he never wanted to experience that again with a person other than his master. But he couldn't say that out loud to Zaiden, let alone to himself. He was the man's whore, and while Zaiden -was- claiming him for his own purposes at the moment, what about tomorrow? Furthermore, he didn't want to give the man any unintended ideas by saying he only wanted Zaiden.

Besides, speaking it would make the words all the truer and he still wasn't fully prepared for that finality.

"Take your shirt off."

Aaron locked eyes with his master. For a moment, he considered disobeying, but then he pulled the tunic off with little ceremony, holding it in one hand, and met his master's eyes again.

"Come here."

His feet obeyed despite the pounding of his heart that screamed danger. When they were almost knee to knee, Zaiden leaned forward, grabbed his hands, and pulled on him until Aaron was straddling his lap. Their faces so close, it was impossible to look away without being obvious. Instead, he closed his eyes and merely felt his master's mouth and teeth on his chest.

Between a kiss, Zaiden murmured with a heat that tightened Aaron's already semi-hard groin, "No one but me will ever touch you again. I'll kill anyone who does. Do you understand?"

By the end, the words had heated him as much as the tone. They shouldn't have excited him. A rational person wouldn't have been thrilled by them. But they enflamed him and made him want to beg for more. With a breathy moan, completely willing to submit, at least for the moment, he said, "Yes."

 

 

**Chapter 13: Following to the Letter**

 

The week that followed brought more of the same, so much so that his life fell into a sort of routine. He slept in his master's bed, bathed and ate with him, fucked him, made love with him, read by his side, talked with him, and spent hours with Gwyneth when Zaiden had to be away, leaving him wanting only to be next to him once again.

He knew it wouldn't have been this way if he hadn't run away, had remained merely a whore of the household. And as it was, he was more his master's lover than a slave. And Zaiden treated him as such, within the nearly invisible boundaries.

With the lack of fight, his life had become, well, bearable. Even pleasant, if he could forget the contract that bound him. It was an unreal sensation, one that still caught him off guard when he remembered the differences of just two weeks before with his father.

Still, this life didn't seem right, seemed unreal, like he was living in a dream that was just waiting for the chance to turn into a nightmare. Life could never be this pleasant, not for him.

That day, that fact proved true.

At first it was a barely comprehensible sound bouncing off of the walls, but he could hear it and knew it. It could be no other sound than that of his father's voice.

The moment he heard it, he froze, staring at Gwyneth, wondering if she heard it too, hoping it was just his imagination. She looked to him questioningly after her move on the chessboard. The sound only grew louder, more urgent, making the girl look towards the door.

With her acknowledgement of the shouts, proving that they really did exist, Aaron stood up, said, "I'll be right back. Stay here," walked to the door, opened it, and started down the hallway with increasingly faster footsteps. By the time he reached the main entrance way, he was at a full out run.

The moment his father caught sight of him, the man jerked in the restraint of arms, trying to reach out to him, as the older woman, who seemed to always handle the guests, tried to talk him down. Zaiden was nowhere to be seen.

"Let him go!"

His father used the momentary confusion of whether or not to follow the order to break free and rush the boy, his arms wrapping around him in a bear hold of a hug. His father's body was hot, sweating, but strangely missing the scent of alcohol.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the man sobbed quietly near his ear. "I'm trying to give the money back. I'm trying to get you back. I haven't spent any of it. But they won't even let me speak to him!"

The suddenness of the declaration made the teenager weak and nauseated. The heat and tight hold of his father weren't helping in the least. He knew he should have been happy for the chance to get away. A week before, he would have jumped at the chance to rid himself of this household. Now...

The two men who'd been restraining the older man suddenly walked forward, probably realizing they weren't doing their jobs. Aaron's arms already defensively at his father's chest, he shoved at the man, trying to put reasonable distance between them.

When his father didn't let go, he urged near his ear, "Come with me. We can talk in the lounge." When he shoved again, the man peeled away from him. "We're going to talk in the lounge," Aaron said to the men, stiffly turned around, and walked back the way he'd come. Thankfully only the sound of his father's footsteps followed behind.

When he got there, Gwyneth was standing near the door, her face drowning in confusion.

He knew he didn't have the time to try to explain things to her, not if Zaiden was refusing to see his father which only gave him a short amount of time to do it himself.

Instead, he said, "Gwyneth, can you give us a moment? I just need to talk to him."

The other teenager's mouth worked a bit, her eyes wide, but then she walked past them and out the door. If Zaiden's men and woman weren't going to let Zaiden in on what was happening, he was sure then that Gwyneth would. Aaron closed the door solidly behind himself.

Then the boy gasped when his father rushed at him again, grabbed his face in two sweaty hands, and pressed his forehead to his own, all in one movement. Tears and hot breaths hit his face. "You're coming back with me. I didn't mean to do this. I'll get this straightened out."

Then his father's mouth was on his. Drunk or not, apparently the man couldn't control himself. Apparently, after years of fucking the boy, the man could no longer see the normal limits of a father and son.

Aaron tried to fight him off, but the taller man was as strong as he'd ever been and not afraid to put his full strength into what he wanted. Then the man's body was against him. Aaron squeezed his eyes shut at the hardness and realized then the mistake of taking him into a private room, that perhaps his father had taken it as an invitation.

When the man's mouth finally left his own bruised, reddened lips and trailed scratchy stubble down his neck, Aaron hissed, "You can't do this!"

When he heard the stalking footsteps from the direction of the garden, it was almost too late. His eyes snapped open in time to see Zaiden press a gun to the side of his father's head.

"Get off of him."

The fury in Zaiden's otherwise controlled voice made Aaron weak. He shoved at his father again. This time the man stumbled away, staring right at Aaron.

"On your knees."

"Zaiden, don't!"

His master didn't even acknowledge him. "Down."

Slowly, his father complied, his breathing ragged, his hard-on too obvious. Then a gunshot blasted in the room, jolting Aaron, slamming his father's head onto the floor with a dull, bouncing thud. Blood quickly seeped through blonde hair and into the pristine cream-colored carpet, creating a dark, almost black puddle. His father's unmoving gaze stared at Aaron's feet.

For a seeming eternity, Aaron couldn't believe what had just happened. Then, his brain trying to fully comprehend the obvious, out of his quivering lips came, "You-you killed him."

The words brought another round of nausea, and he finally did throw up for the first time since the dumpster when he'd tried to run away, stumbling to the side and then to a stop to avoid stepping in it with his bare feet. His trembling arm gripped at the wall for support.

Now that he'd looked away, he found he couldn't look back. It was his own father, dead, on the floor, and he couldn't even go to him. He couldn't go near Zaiden.

The quietness in the room contrasted with his gagging. Tears dripped from his eyes, as much from the physical agony as the mental.

Zaiden had killed his father. Murdered his father. In front of his face. Without mercy. With fury.

His hand was reaching for the doorknob before he could stop it. Even as he did it, he knew it was a mistake. The man near him stormed at him, slamming him chest first against the wall next to the door. Zaiden pressed close, but not quite touching his body with his own.

"Did you think I wasn't serious? I told you no one else will touch you." The grip at his neck tightened. The hand was as hot as his father's had been. "Especially him."

Yes, Zaiden had told him what to expect. Told him he'd kill anyone who did touch him. And Aaron had known it as the truth. But he hadn't thought it would happen at that moment. He'd only meant to talk to his father, to talk him down, to try to get him to see reason. As if he ever could. He hadn't meant to bring about his death.

More tears spilled. "I'm sorry," Aaron sobbed out. He didn't know who he was saying it to. Zaiden? His father? The world?

He was sorry he'd killed his own father. Sorry that his mother had died under his arms. Sorry his father had taken anything and everything out on him. Sorry he'd done his best to run away from Zaiden both as a child and now. Sorry he was so beautiful that people couldn't stop groping him, whether with their eyes or their bodies. Sorry he couldn't say no and mean it. Sorry he was so pathetic, directionless, and willing.

The grip tightened to the point that he almost couldn't breathe, and he didn't put up a bit of fight to stop it. Then as suddenly as he'd been slammed against the wall, the grip released and Zaiden backed away from him.

Aaron groped again for the doorknob.

"If I'd let you go with him, he only would have hurt you again. People like that don't stop."

No, they didn't. He knew from experience they didn't. Just as Zaiden wouldn't stop.

His hand found the doorknob. He was out the door, running down the hallway, out the front door, into the street, barefoot, and into a different part of hell.

 

 

**Chapter 14: Granting Freedom**

 

When hands gripped him with enough force to cause pain, and then another set of hands, Aaron wasn't surprised in the least. He hadn't expected to get away. He'd never expected to get away at any point in his life. And maybe that was why he never did.

The two men who'd been restraining his father dragged him back up the stairs, literally, since he jarred himself at every step, as determined to not go back in, as he was willing to put up a fight just to make the men's lives more difficult.

It shouldn't have been so easy to control a person's life.

The building looked like a tomb to him as he was pulled underneath the overhang. A large, expensive tomb, but one nonetheless, especially with his dead father so close by.

How quickly a week of near happiness could melt away and leave him back where he started...

"Where do you want him," one of the men asked an ear piece.

Then he was hauled up to the third floor. Corian joined their little party near the Master's bedchamber and proceeded to a concealed closet that held an array of devices that reminded Aaron who exactly he lived with. One of the men gripped him by the hair as Corian chained him unceremoniously at the neck to a post near the bed, the chain not long enough to actually reach it. Then he was released.

"I want to see my father!" His voice echoed in the expansive room.

Before that moment, he hadn't wanted to, but now he did.

At that, the man who'd spoken before stalked to the balcony and closed it.

With a coldness that hadn't been in Corian's voice the last time he'd heard it in the cement room, reminding the teenager of the glares he'd gotten a week prior, the man growled, "Learn your place this time."

Showing an aggression Aaron never had before in his life, he lunged at the free man, so ready to take out his pain and hatred on something fleshy.

Jolted, Corian stumbled backwards, though the effort helped little. It was only the other bodyguard who grabbed Corian by the arm to rip him away and saved him from the assault.

The chain around Aaron's neck choked him and nearly ripped him from his feet. Instead he fell to his knees, partially of his own accord, and choked and gagged, tears leaking from eyes and spit from his mouth. Nonetheless, the memory of the two men's shocked, fearful expressions as he'd lunged made him laugh, adding to his gagging pain. Men all larger than himself and they'd jumped away from him. Feared him. Him.

The group left quietly, Aaron not even realizing they had until he lifted his head and pulled sweat dampened locks of hair out of his eyes. The time he spent alone did nothing to tame his emotions. In fact, it only amplified them and his voice and violence until he was physically and emotionally worn out.

Zaiden didn't enter the bedchamber until the sun had well since set and Aaron was sitting down against the pillar, his legs outstretched before him.

"I-" Aaron tried to shout at the man's appearance, but his raw, dry throat cracked at the rage in it. He coughed and sputtered, covering the nearly silent footsteps that approached. When it felt safe, he tried again: "I want to see my father!"

Quietly, coldly, Zaiden said, "His body was taken by the police to be properly disposed of."

Disposed of? "What?! Why?"

"The man committed a crime. He invaded my home and attempted to steal my property, as well as damaged it."

The word 'property' stuck in Aaron's mind, bringing out an emotion between defeat and rage, knowing that, from the way Zaiden said it, the word applied to him, never mind the carpet. "I'm the one who brought him in! He didn't invade anything!"

"Without my permission."

Aaron began to shake his head, unbelieving, so stuck in this hell of a life.

"Since you're under the age of 18 and under contract, I'll be handling your affairs on your behalf."

"On my behalf? What are you going to do?" Tears dripped, as he spat, "You're going to take everything from me, aren't you? Sell it all off? My house, my mother's things..." Aaron broke off when Zaiden's jaw tightened as well as his grip on his folded arms.

Instead of voicing his outrage, the younger man let it fester inside of himself until he hated the blue-eyed man, which only took a few seconds of effort. Aaron did so because he realized his 'master' didn't fear him in the least, probably because Aaron technically -was- the man's property to do with as he liked.

The man was so much like his father it chilled him.

How had he ended up with this man? Did Aaron have a magnet inside of himself that attracted people like this? Zaiden had been the only one to notice him, to talk with him as a child. Had the older boy known what he was? Recognized his weakness and pain that had kept the other children instinctively away from him? Seen a person who could be manipulated to do his will?

The truth the boy saw in the notions closed his heart further. Aaron hated this man who professed love, hated him with a passion that pulsated from him, that narrowed Zaiden's eyes in turn.

Aaron hissed, "If you ever come near me again, I'll rip it off."

The teenager didn't bother to rise to his feet to say it. His voice was enough to send Zaiden stalking to the bathroom. Soon, the boy could hear the splashing water and he couldn't help be jealous considering the blood that still stained his clothing. He wanted to be rid of the evidence himself.

Instead, he did the only thing he could really do: he curled up on the cold floor, huddling into a ball, and tried to remember nice things about his father. The process was so mind-numbing that he soon gave up and instead thought about his mother and wished once again that he could be in her arms.

The next morning, he awoke to a blanket laying over him. He threw it off, but no one else was there to witness the revolt.

By him was a pot to relieve himself. He obliged them and filled it before he threw it and its contents on his master's bed. The disgust he saw on Zaiden's face when he came back into the room hours later... Aaron almost thought the older man was going to beat him for it. Instead, Zaiden had a servant change the sheets, then the whole mattress when she'd realized the extent of the damage. Then, like a pet put outside, Aaron himself was merely moved to a post much farther away in the corner that was cleared out of furniture except for a narrow cot and another pot.

The days that followed crept by.

For three days, he refused to eat before his anger at everything, including his aching gut, forced him to eat. Dragged by the chain, he was forced into the shower and scrubbed once a day, whether by himself or them if he refused to do it.

Zaiden didn't talk to him anymore, barely acknowledged him. Aaron had long before given up shouting at him, as it did absolutely nothing. Why the man bothered to keep him, he didn't have a clue.

Was it the contract? Surely if it was only that, Zaiden wouldn't have bothered to keep him in his room.

Was it some false, selfish idea of love? If it was that then the man was crazier than Aaron himself.

Perhaps it was merely stubbornness, ego, the driving force for people outside of their hormones. Surely it was that. The notion only left him to further detest the man who owned him.

Eventually though, as the days turned into weeks and nearly a month, as the people around him treated him like the animal he acted like, the whole of it began to wear on him and make him lose his focus as to why he was doing it in the first place. Time and isolation could make anyone apathetic, even towards someone who'd murdered their parent. It especially wore on him during those weeks when Zaiden was gone for two of them and Aaron had to wonder if he'd taken the previously proposed vacation without him.

A few days after the master of the house had shown up again, when Zaiden entered the chamber that night, Aaron couldn't help but watch him, no longer sure what he felt towards him, if anything.

Seriously, why did Zaiden keep him? Why didn't he throw him back into the brothel and be done with it? Was the man really that patient? That lustful? That egotistical? That stubborn? That stupid?

As Zaiden settled into his bed, facing him, watching him, Aaron's own voice sounded unfamiliar to him when he said unthinkingly, "Why am I still here? You can't seriously still believe I'm worth what you paid for me."

The master watched him for nearly a minute before he said, "Money is nothing."

Aaron huffed without humor. "Tell that to the people who don't have any."

The room grew quiet. In that quietness, the boy's mind fluttered around, going over the previous few weeks like watching an old movie that faded from his mind.

There were so many things he didn't understand. Things he would probably never understand without questions about his own life, his family's lives, even Zaiden's.

He swallowed at the strip of metal around his neck that always reminded him of his forced position in life, so tired of thinking about everything. But that was all he could really do while his stubborn body kept breathing.

Studying the man he'd started loving again weeks before, his black hair and dark skin half covered by a sheet, his beautiful blue eyes, Aaron wondered again at the combination and found himself asking, "What happened to your parents?"

The silence that ensued made him regret even asking, both because he wasn't sure he really wanted to know and because it was nearly obscene to ask, considering everything.

Then, his voice barely carrying over, Zaiden said, "They killed themselves. My mother was depressed, had been off and on ever since my birth. I think everything... I think it all messed with her head, destroyed her mind. When he found her in this bed, he shot himself."

Said so bluntly, with so little emotion, Aaron couldn't say anything, his mind blank and numb, except for a small bit that screamed.

A short while later, the older man said with creeping iciness, "Trust me, Aaron, money is nothing...." Aaron couldn't help the shake of his head before he looked to the ceiling. Then, barely heard across the room, Zaiden murmured, "If I release you... I want to know you're going to be safe."

His dark eyes shot back to his 'master'. "Release me?"

"Yes. I wanted to make sure you're going to be safe before I did. Like I said before, if you die, what was the point to all of this?"

The boy hacked a laugh, unbelieving. "This is how you make sure someone is safe? By buying them, killing their fathers, and chaining them up?"

Zaiden rolled onto his back and gripped his hair. "You're too naive."

"Fuck you."

The man turned his head, frowning at him, before he offered a weak smile. "Maybe you're not." Then the frown took back over and he looked back up to the canopy of his bed. "I... I'm going to release you tomorrow. Your family's home is in your name, as well as everything in it. I made sure of that. I'll have my driver take you there in the morning. I'm also going to give you an account number with everything that's left of your family's money." Aaron couldn't breathe, especially not when Zaiden finally said, "You're free of me. But I hope you know that... Even if I didn't do everything right, I was trying to protect you."

The blood seemed to drain from him at the ridiculous words. "By making me a whore?!" Sitting up, his voice cracking, he blurted out, "I want to go right now!"

Zaiden stared at him for far too long, but only for a few seconds, before he said, "Fine." The man got up, picked up his phone, talked to someone quietly, before he walked over to him with a key in hand and released him. "If you want any of your clothing, you're welcome to it. I'll get you a bag," the man said as he started to walk away.

Aaron felt his neck, at the place he'd been chained up. The freedom felt odd after a month. "I don't want anything from you. I just want to go home."

The man turning around, a hand tried to reach up but Aaron flinched away from it. The hand dropped and Zaiden's whole presence deflated considerably. "I'm sorry."

"You're not." Before Zaiden could disagree, Aaron backed away from him and then bolted to the door, still barefoot, daring to chase his freedom.

When he made it down the stairs, the driver was waiting for him. Aaron gritted his teeth at the sight of him but continued on. The taller man had to lengthen his strides to keep up. He let himself into the car, in the backseat, and refused to look at the building any longer. If he had any choice in the matter, he'd never see it again.

The dark night concealed much of the world from him, especially as they traveled the country road. An hour later, before they came to a complete stop, the burly man reached a key back to him. Aaron took it after a moment's hesitation.

Speaking to him for the first time, the driver said, "Mr. Mihar had the locks changed." Which insinuated that the man also had a key now. Aaron decided then that the locks were going to be changed again. "You'll find the key to your father's car on the kitchen table, along with the rest. Expect a visit from Mr. Mihar's lawyer tomorrow. Don't ignore it. It's only for your benefit." When the car came to a stop, he said, "Take care."

Aaron gave the man one last look through the mirror and then got out of the car and tried to not cry as he walked up the decrepit sidewalk, loomed over by the dark, empty house that held so many good and terrible memories. His feet stumbled to a stop. He clutched himself, before he came down onto his knees, the key pressing sharply into the palm of his hand.

And he cried, so amazed he had any tears left.

 

 

**Chapter 15: Reaching for Perfection**

 

Knitting the house back together, it took so much out of him and gave so much back. Each nail and coat of plaster was like a repair to his own body, mind, and heart. The more he discarded poorly repaired furniture, patched up the holes in walls, tore out carpet that had blood stains on it from far too many people, just one being too many, Aaron found himself growing, well, happier.

The young man tossed another plank into flames that had been burning for days and smiled as he watched the flickering licks and listened to the crackles. Then, flexing his hand at the strain in his arm from carrying the heavy piece of wood, he looked down on his hand, marveling at it.

In the weeks and months, his 18th birthday well passed, his body had gained muscle and length which reminded him of his father. It seemed as if his body wanted to catch up for lost time and abuse. His body's hunger was tremendous and he fed it with the considerable sum in his bank account, just like he did the fire. It felt like he'd eaten more in those months than he had in his whole life.

Not only did his body hunger, but his mind and heart did as well, but that craving was ignored because it have brought him to a place he didn't want to go, namely back against Zaiden's body. He ignored the temptation because he knew if he did, he'd never move away from that body again. And because, in turn, he would be risking too much, his soul.

In the end though, time had a way of making people apathetic, of creating a longing for something they couldn't have. But he couldn't forget what had happened between them since it had too good of a chance of happening again.

"But what exactly did happen," he asked the fire.

The fire only popped and sputtered a reply.

Aaron blew out a huff of air and turned away, heading back inside. Discarding his coat on a hook, when he sat down in front of the fireplace, a flame flickering in it as well against the cold, he glanced again to the phone on the table, numbers rambling off in his head. The natural understanding of numbers a gift to him, he'd memorized Zaiden's number in the paperwork without even realizing it. Now the numbers tormented him.

He'd been alone too long, he told himself. He needed to go into the city and not just for the purpose of getting supplies. He needed to talk to people, anyone really, besides Zaiden.

Ironically, he never seemed to realize how much he hated being alone until he actually was.

There had to be someone out there that wouldn't use him and abuse him. He pictured the abuse he'd suffered with Zaiden, the beating, the chains. Then he pictured the better moments, the fucking, the conversations, the quiet moments, the smiles. He'd always loved Zaiden's smiles, every one of them.

Aaron growled and slouched down into the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. The movement only made him further aware of the hardening at his groin.

"I seriously need to get out..." he said to the empty room. And what was stopping him anymore exactly? Habit? Laziness? Fear? He didn't know.

The harness only increased against his will. He gripped it with a strong hand, sucking in a breath before he relaxed the grip. He glanced at the phone again. With one call...

What if Zaiden had moved beyond him? Aaron almost certainly doubted it, but there was always the chance. And perhaps... He didn't want to think about it.

Perhaps they could just be together in bed and nowhere else, he thought, although the thought wasn't technically a new one.

His father darted back into his mind and cursed him for even thinking such perverse thoughts.

He rubbed at his face, trying to think straight.

Seriously, did the old man even deserve this commitment from him? Surely not. Surely his father had lost that right when he'd beat and fucked his only child against his will.

He dropped his hand, muttering, "The man's fucking me even in death..."

Aaron gritted his teeth and then stalked over and picked up the phone. Before he could think rationally, for the first time, he dialed the number he'd never forget.

When Zaiden picked up, sleep but also disbelief in his voice, he said, "Aaron?"

Aaron blurted out, "I want you. Right now."

The other side went totally silent, and the younger man wondered if his pervious master had hung up on him. It would have surprised him, just a little bit.

"I'll come to you," Zaiden said with more awareness.

"No, I don't want you here. And I don't want to come there."

"Okay... We could go to a hotel. Or I have a home at the beach front. It's a few miles outside of the city. My parents used to spend their weekends there."

The latter idea sounded better than trying to transverse the city. "The house."

"Do you still have the phone I gave you?"

"It's not charged." He'd never charged it, even after the lawyer had handed it to him months before. "But yes."

"Okay, it has a GPS navigator. The icon for it should be on the home screen. I'll give you the address."

Aaron jotted it down on a pad of paper that said 'Home Sweet Home' on the top of it that laid next to the phone, one of his mother's old purchases, and hung up without another word.

After he found the phone tucked away in a drawer, plugged it into the wall, and figured out how to use the navigator, he'd lost most of his motivation. The computerized, feminine voice told him he'd reach his destination in an hour and 24 minutes, and he didn't know how he'd make it that long with his hard-on intact, nor the hard-on in his mind at the very least.

Long ebony hair fluttered as he shook his head with abandon. He was doing this. Screw the consequences. He wanted this. He wanted to feel his old master's/lover's skin, feel his weight, even if for only just one night.

Aaron yanked his jacket back on, putting a bottle of oil he'd picked up from an end table in a pocket, snatched up the truck's keys, and stormed out the door, slamming the door like he'd done when he'd left his father for the first time. He could almost hear the man crying again.

"Fuck him," he growled into the cold autumn air. This, everything was as much his father's fault as anyone else's. At least Zaiden had given him the pleasure refused by his father. At least the man had truly tried to save him in some perverse manner.

The man laughed at himself as he started the truck up, dumbstruck at his own illogical thoughts and the consequential behavior.

He should have gotten back out, walked back into the house, and simply jacked off like he'd been doing for months over thoughts of Zaiden. He should have begged for forgiveness from the world for being just one more perverted man looking for a home for his cock. He should have done a lot of things.

Instead, the truck roared down the country road, following the directions of the female voice purring from Zaiden's phone, urging him to keep going and find his cock's home.

The time went quickly and soon he pulled up to a home with a car parked in front of it. Behind the windshield, he saw Zaiden's driver. The man glanced to him, but then went back to his newspaper, apparently Aaron being the person whom he'd expected.

Aaron shoved himself out of the vehicle and up the sidewalk to a house that's elegance was somewhere in between Zaiden's normal home and that of the doctor's. The two story building dwarfed his own home and was far more extravagant than he ever would have wanted.

To be born into money... Aaron couldn't imagine it, nor did he want to experience it, not after living in Zaiden's home.

The red stucco looked black in the darkness of night, only showing its true color under the entryway light. He was about to knock on the heavy carved wood of the door, but noticed it was slightly ajar. Pushing it open and closing it behind him, he walked into a home decorated in a much softer and simpler manner than the mansion. Here, he knew he could at least breathe and not worry about breaking something, although surely something there was worth more than him.

Sitting on the couch, Zaiden stood up when the younger man walked to the lighted living room, motion which caught Aaron's attention. When their eyes met, so much of what Aaron had thought he'd let go boiled to the surface and left him nauseous, mental hard-on long gone.

Zaiden was as elegant in his simplicity as he ever was. It was like the months and distance hadn't come between them. The man's straightness, his mental strength grated on the teenager and he wondered what he'd been thinking in coming here.

Blue eyes looked him over as well. "You... You've..."

"Don't talk. I can't listen to you right now."

The shorter man stopped talking and merely waited. When Zaiden obeyed him, a fire burned in Aaron's belly and spread through his body. Unable to ignore it any longer as he'd been doing for months, he stalked up to the other man, grabbed his long, untied hair, bent his own neck down, and claimed his ex-master's mouth. Zaiden tilted his head back to meet it, completely willingly and with an aggression of his own.

Trailing over skin with a taste he knew so well, Aaron continued down his neck, Zaiden digging into his back and breathing heavily over his shoulder.

"Turn around," the taller man ordered, emphasizing the demand with a hand on Zaiden's shoulder, bending him over as well until Zaiden's hands gripped the back of the couch.

Then Aaron lifted the black tunic with one hand, lowered the man's pants with the other, before he dug the bottle out of his jacket pocket. With strong, bold, oiled fingers, his other hand shoving the bottle back in his pocket, he slid down the man's crack until he found the entrance to his body. He had no patience for one, and instead pushed two in, stretching the hole with steady thrusts, then putting three in and separating his fingers, making his lover gasp and grip the length between his own legs.

Aaron pulled his own cock out of his pants, slicked himself up with any remaining oil, and pushed in with little mercy, unable to help himself. He hoped Zaiden hadn't been foolishly waiting for him by avoiding sex like he had been.

The man's body opened up to him, enveloping him with a wonderful heat that begged to be pounded. Zaiden's deep moan played with his ear, his mind until it was the only sound in the world. His thrusts were longer than he'd meant them to be, but the man felt too consuming around his erection.

Zaiden's gasps and heavy breaths filled the air as he pounded deeper and deeper, demanding entrance. Aaron's own voice matched the sounds and then he let out a long groan when he finally fully impaled the man's backside.

"Don't stop," Zaiden growled at the pause.

That was all it took to pull back and slam against his lover, again and again, the pace and feeling quickly becoming something so familiar, something he'd missed so dearly without ever admitting it out loud. He could feel his sack tighten up all too quickly. He never wanted this sensation to end, never wanted to go back to reality and the distance he had to put between them. He never wanted it to end because he loved this man and when this was over, he'd have to seal that love back into the depths of his mind and heart.

Aaron ran his hand down the man's strong, sweat-dampened back, and then reached around until he felt the length Zaiden beat off with his own hand. He pushed the man's hand away, and stroked the length himself, loving the feel of its soft skin sliding over the hard interior, loving how it hardened just a bit more for him, until it was so ridged it had to be verging on painful.

"Don't come yet," the younger man hissed right before he came hard into Zaiden's hole, buried to the hilt in his hot slickness.

Then he yanked the man around, pushing him down into the seat, before he collapsed to his knees and took the man deep into his mouth, making himself gag slightly, but he fought the sensation, fucking the man with his mouth, as Zaiden's calls filled the room

When he'd swallowed every drop of cum, sucking just one more time to be sure, he released the softening erection and rested the side of his head against Zaiden's inner thigh, breathing trembling breaths against it. Fingers twined into his hair, stroking through it, trying to get him to purr like the animal Aaron felt he was.

The length twitched near his face, and he leaned forward slightly, taking his tightening sack into his mouth, tonguing it until Zaiden's hips ground his length against Aaron's cheek, a hiss falling from the older man's lips.

As the man bucked at his face, Aaron knew he'd never be about to forget about their week together again, nor this night. He took Zaiden's length into his mouth again and sucked and licked him, also knowing he'd never find a more delicious thing in the world.

Within a few minutes, the older man was again spilling his seed into Aaron's mouth before his body went limp, its only motions its heavy ragged breaths. Aaron let the erection slip from his mouth and he sat back on his heels, looking at the man who'd once owned him. Blue eyes barely showed through slitted eyes as Zaiden watched him. The man was so beautiful to him that Aaron almost didn't have the strength to keep away.

Aaron pressed his lips together and then said softly, "There's no way I'll ever go into a contract with you again. I can't... But... But I want this. I want you."

A slight frown darkened Zaiden's face before he smiled. "You want a fuck buddy?"

His face reddening like it hadn't done in months, Aaron's mouth opened but then he looked away. Wasn't that what he was asking for? Wasn't that the only way they could make this 'relationship' or whatever it was work?

His gaze lifted and met blue eyes again, and he whispered, "I want what you're willing to give me."

"You already have my love and my body. What more can I give you?"

Aaron's blush deepened, his heart threatening to explode. "That's enough."

Zaiden sat up and leaned forward, claiming his mouth again, hungering for it. When Aaron backed away, he let him go.

"What you did... Do you understand that I can't forgive you for it? You didn't have to do it."

"I did and I'd do it again. If there's one man in the world who deserved it, it's him."

"That's not true. He..." How could he rationalize his father's behavior towards himself and his mother? Excuse it? "I can't agree with you."

"I once said before that you're naive, but I think you're just too kind. If you'd seen half of the madness I've seen in this world... In other countries, your father would have stoned or flogged to death years ago for what he'd done. By comparison, I gave him mercy."

Aaron squeezed his eyes shut. Even if the words were in any way true, he still wasn't ready to hear it. "Please. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

A hand touched his cheek. "Okay."

Biting back tears, the younger man looked to the side, unable to keep eye contact, pulling away from the hand. Quietly, he admitted, "You said I have your love... You know I love you as well."

The other man was silent. Disturbingly so. But then he nuzzled Aaron's cheek and ear, whispering through a smile, "I've waited years for you to say that."

Aaron huffed a small laugh that turned into a hiss when the man bit at his neck. "And I've been waiting years to say it. It was a stupid choice on my part to not say it. I was so stupid."

"It's impossible to always make the best ones." Zaiden's hand slipped around Aaron's cock, bringing him to shudder. "We just have to hope we can manage it sometimes."

Aaron kissed his lover, his ex-master, his friend, and knew this was the right choice, even if it wasn't the perfect one. But that was to be expected in a life that could never be perfect.


End file.
